


St. Clarity

by pinkwinwin



Series: St. Clarity [1]
Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Graphic Description, M/M, Magical Realism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Side Xiaokun, Slow Burn, Violence, Witchcraft, yuwin main with side dojae and johnten
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2019-09-24 22:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17109524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkwinwin/pseuds/pinkwinwin
Summary: “There are far more frightening things out there than I am, Yuta,” Sicheng murmurs, voice like ink on a page. It is dark, it is a warning. He reaches out, offering his hand to Yuta, but the look he gives Sicheng when he turns around is one he can’t read.The faint shape of the church looms behind them like a threat.





	1. Cathedral

**Author's Note:**

> HERE WE ARE FOLKS
> 
> I can’t believe Chapter 1 is here already. I’ve been working on this for ages, and I’m excited to finally share this story with you.  
> A few notes for the fic as a whole:
> 
> — Pairings are: yuwin main, side johnten, doyoung, luwoo (later on!)
> 
> — warnings for mentions of blood and violence in future chapters (hence the M rating)
> 
> — A huge thank you to [ayesha](https://twitter.com/minhyukwithagun)  
> for all of her support, endless reassuring messages, and for beta’ing this monster. I can never thank you enough.

There is a certain responsibility that comes with living the better part of a millennium, and Sicheng finds a lot of it lies in how he holds a dagger.

 

He doesn't need it of course, there are far better and more powerful ways for Sicheng to defend himself, but he likes the weight of the tool in his hands. He turns it in his palm, watching how the gentle angle of the blade catches the light like liquid through his fingertips. A blade is a blade until it isn't, especially when pressed against the throat of some poor creature with nothing to offer Sicheng but an ingredient off his list. He doesn't like the act, never did in all his years, and the way he flinches when the dagger hits the artery in the neck of the rat never wanes. He watches as the blood runs down his pointer finger, jabbed up in the animal's jaw to keep it from struggling too much. He will dispose of the rat after it's been drained, but Sicheng always finds himself staring at the fading light in its eyes for far longer than necessary.

 

The vial containing the blood is murky, and Sicheng makes a mental note to pick up more supplies during his next trip out. He wipes the outside of it clean, tossing the sullied rag into a pile to be washed. The sensation of his hands under hot water does little to ease Sicheng out of his thoughts, and he scrubs endlessly until his they feel raw. He dries them, noting how the room is especially quiet for a Thursday morning. He takes advantage of his time before the apprentice comes, padding his way into the kitchen and starting up the kettle.

 

What Sicheng takes refuge in is his personal space, his ability to compartmentalize his existence is in the form of his apartment. His kitchen is a way for him to focus, to watch the steam leak out of the kettle spout while he prepares his coffee. The large bay windows stretched ceiling to floor welcomes him with the promise of sun rays, the vines carving up the glass an inviting hue of green. Even his sitting room has a purpose, its stacks of books and plush velvet armchairs beckoning Sicheng to work on a new potion recipe. Sicheng thinks of this as the kettle whistles, pouring the hot water over coffee grounds and watching the muddled mixture steep. His bare feet feel cold against the wooden floors, and he half-considers climbing the staircase to fetch a sweater.

 

The sound of shuffling and a bell breaks Sicheng out of his thought process, and he reaches for a mug while his guest removes their coat. Just as he pours his cup, a familiar face with a bright smile peeks into the kitchen.

 

"Morning, Sicheng!" he says, fluffy brown hair in his eyes. He shakes his head, coming his fingers through his bangs and stepping into the kitchen.

 

"Good morning, Donghyuck. You're here early today," Sicheng replies smoothly, reaching up for another mug. He pours the coffee into the cup, letting the steam rise up to his face. He grips their handles, bringing them to the kitchen island where Donghyuck sits.

 

The younger man smiles at him and reaches for the sugar and cream on the counter. "Yeah, Ten had somewhere to go this morning, so he asked if he could bring me here early."  
  
  
Sicheng laughs a little at this, adding cream to his own coffee and stirring it with a delicate spoon. "He sounds like such a mom."  
  
  
"He _ _is__ a mom sometimes," Donghyuck replies, rolling his eyes before taking a sip of his hot drink. He hums pleasantly, gripping the mug between his two hands. Donghyuck watches as Sicheng tidies up the kitchen, placing dishes into the sink and running them under warm water. He doesn't say anything until Sicheng leans back on the counter with his drink in hand.

 

"What are we doing today?" Sicheng ponders this, wondering if he should ask his apprentice to fetch him the ingredients he's running low on. He thinks of the shop several blocks over, filled with a seemingly endless supply of materials and spell books.

 

"Hmm, well I need some supplies but I'm more worried about you being able to read that last scroll I gave you," Sicheng muses, looking at the younger man with an arched brow and a slight smirk. Donghyuck's whining makes him chuckle, and he takes another sip of his coffee.

 

In truth, it was Sicheng's oasis outside of his apartment. He wasn't much for social activities, but he loved entering that shop. He never got tired of listening the melodic bell over the entrance chime, signaling his arrival. The kind shopkeeper's face on the other side of the counter became a friend over the decades Sicheng has been in this city, and he was looking forward to discussing the best herbs for his newest brew.

 

"Sicheng, when are you gonna let me actually help you with your potions?" Donghyuck asks, bottom lip jutted out in a pout. It has little effect on Sicheng.

 

"Well, I'm __going to__ let you help me once you master scroll reading," Sicheng replies, reaching behind him and grabbing the plate resting on the counter. He places it in front of Donghyuck, and smiles at the sight of Donghyuck's eyes growing wide. He picks a pastry from the pile and nibbles on the corner, looking up at Sicheng.

 

"Okay," he replies quietly, giving in for now. He wiggles the treat between his fingers. "Thanks."

 

✞

 

Sicheng found solace in his quiet apartment, but he secretly didn't mind when the place became a sort of landing spot for his friends. That's why when he exists the back room with Donghyuck on his heels, he isn't surprised to see several people in his sitting room.

 

"It's about time you finished up," a melodic voice said, and Donghyuck immediately trots over to the man and sits down next to him. His pretty eyes crinkled at this, and a soft smile graced his features as he pushed Donghyuck's hair out of his eyes lovingly. His silver rings glinted in the light from the side table lamp, dark painted nails clashing against the general softness of the man beneath his touch.

 

"I got a lot better today!" Donghyuck replies, eagerly leaning into the Ten's touch. "Even Sicheng was impressed."

 

Sicheng leans against one of the pillars in the seating room. "That's right, he's getting used to the terminology."

 

"That's great!" the man says, looking up at Sicheng with a bright smile. "So he was good today?"   
  
  


"Yes, he was good," Sicheng says with a smile, crossing his arms and looking at the unconventional pair as they leaned back into the couch and talked amongst themselves. The man in the armchair in the corner sets his book down, looking over at the pair in interest before turning to Sicheng.

 

"Oh, that reminds me. Sicheng, do you have a book on conjuration?" he asks, closing the book between large hands. He leans forward in interest, his auburn hair once pushed back falling in his eyes.

 

Sicheng's brow furrows. "Of course, want me to go get it for you?"   
  
  


"Please," the man replies, soft smile playing upon his lips. "That would be great."

 

Sicheng nods, pushing off the pillar and heading to his library in search of the book. His nimble fingers brush the spines of the books, mostly leather-bound and worn, until they stop on a navy book with gold binding. He plucks it from the shelf, and his eyes scan the words _Conjuration for Beginners Vol. 1_ in faded gold foil. It's an old book, it's pages made from worn parchment as opposed to the mass-produced clean pages of more modern editions. Sicheng crosses the threshold, padding quietly into the room and hefting the book into the man's hands.

 

"Here you are, Johnny," Sicheng says, watching Johnny's eyes grow wide as he takes in the size of the book. He turns it over gently, fingers brushing against the binding.

 

"I guess I didn't expect the first edition to be this intricate," Johnny muses quietly, looking at the book in his hands in a subdued awe.

 

"I try and keep nicer editions around. I've had them for quite some time," Sicheng replies simply, wiping his dusty hands on a handkerchief placed on the coffee table.

 

"I suppose that's true." The pretty man looks at them in interest, his hands interlocked with Donghyuck's. "At least dust that thing off if you're going to bring it home," he requests, nose scrunching up in disgust. Johnny looks up at him with a bright smile.

 

"Ten, you worry too much about those kinds of things," Johnny replies, laughing when Ten makes another face. Sicheng drops the handkerchief back on the table.

 

"Like you weren't with me when I got that," Sicheng says, looking over at Ten. He shoots Sicheng a dirty look.

 

"Just because you're willing to act a thousand years old, doesn't mean I want to," he sneers, removing one hand from Donghyuck's and running it through his silvery hair. Sicheng doesn't have to turn around to know Johnny is watching with an amused expression.

 

"Alright, you two, that's enough insults for one day," Johnny says, standing up with a stretch. "We should probably get going."

 

Ten nods, rising from his spot on the couch and urging Donghyuck to do the same. Sicheng follows the three of them out to the entryway, watching as they tug their coats on. Ten looks up at the overhead light with a scowl.

 

"It wouldn't kill you to get some brighter bulbs in here," he says, fixing the collar of his black coat to sit snug against his neck.

 

"It might."

 

He and Johnny share a few more words about Johnny's latest study before the trio disappear out the front door, fading into the inky black night like they were never there in the first place.

 

Sicheng closes the door, and the familiar sensation of being alone creeps up his back and sits on his shoulders like a devil whispering sins into his ear.

 

✞

 

There are a lot of memories when you've lived through generations, so much so that they don't have space in your mind. Sicheng knows this, because his bedroom is adorned with personal belongings that tell countless different stories. The rug beneath his feet is the wolf pelt he was presented after his first Winter hunt, the crystals lining his writing desk are collected from successful spells from his academy days, the cloak hanging in the corner by the window was a gift from Doyoung nearly a century ago. It feels as if his bedroom holds a thousand ghosts, each spirit filtering in and out of the room as if they were living beings in their own home.

 

All of these thoughts swirl through Sicheng's mind as his fingers drag across the box in the center of his writing desk. It's cold, the November air leaking through the windows and chilling the room, including the metal-adorned box beneath Sicheng's hand. It's silver detailing lined the edges of with a swirling pattern, all reaching up to meet a crest in the center of the lid. It was one Sicheng had been seeing for the better part of his life thus far, one that had far too many meanings than he cared to think about that night. He opened the box and placed his dagger inside, looking at it against the black velvet with a mix of fondness and pain.

 

If its box was pretty, the dagger was beautiful. All mahogany and silver, intricate knots and serpents crawling up the handle. It shines in the light from the desk lamp, turning nearly gold beneath the warm bulb. Sicheng's eyes traced the pattern as he slowly closed the lid, picking up the box and placing it in its rightful place on the shelf above the window. If he squinted enough, Sicheng could make out the rain falling in his back garden against the leafy plants.

 

He draws the curtains closed, turning to the fireplace and grabbing the matchbox sitting on the mantle. He lights one, watching the orange flame dance slightly before stilling in the room's air, and he tosses it against the logs. He bends down, slender hands placing a spare log from the pile on the floor into the fireplace, crouching down and prodding at his work until the flame engulfs the splintered wood. He rises, looking down at the fire as the flames grow accustomed to their new home between the kindling.

 

"I don't know why you bother with that method when you have __such__ an easier way at your fingertips. Quite literally, I might add."

 

Sicheng sighs, eyes still trained on the fire in front of him. "You've got to stop coming in my house this way."

 

"Oh, please," Doyoung says, and Sicheng can hear the smile in his voice. "You of all people know how nice it is to not have to engage in much mundane mortal behavior."   
  
  


Sicheng turns around, finally facing the dark-haired man seated in the plush armchair. "Walking isn't exactly designated to mortals."

 

"It might as well be." Doyoung looks at him with a smirk, head tilted just so. His round eyes scan the room, and Sicheng takes this time to look at his friend. He's dressed impeccably well, even more so than usual. His dress shoes shine in the glow of the fire, his pressed pants tailored to his body. Even the sweater is a perfect fit, it's navy hue making him look quite regal.

 

"That looks new," Sicheng replies, motioning to the sweater as he walks to the other side of the bed. He begins peeling back the bedding, the luxe fabric beneath his grasp only coaxing Sicheng into an early night in.

 

"It was a gift," Doyoung says, beaming. Sicheng doesn't have to ask from who.

 

"Is there a reason why you're here when you're clearly ready to head out?" he asks, not bothering to look at Doyoung as he disappears into his closet. He returns a minute later changed into pajamas and waits for a response.

 

"Ten said you were looking down, so I came to check on you," Doyoung replies, picking a piece of lint off his sweater. He looks completely uninterested in his surroundings until he locks eyes with Sicheng, who can see the worry in them.

 

"Ten's always worrying about me for no reason," Sicheng mutters, padding to the end of the bed and lifting the trunk. He produces a blanket from it, cream-colored fabric looking like a layer of snow as Sicheng stretches it out across the bed.

 

Doyoung reaches down and rubs the fabric between his fingers before looking up at Sicheng. "You know he worries about you. I do, too." The words make Sicheng stop in his tracks, bare feet cold against the wooden floor. The fire crackles behind him.

 

"You have nothing to worry about."

 

✞

 

The thing about Ten was that he had a penchant for mixing the new with the old. His home reflected that, hanging old wall scrolls from hundreds of years ago above his computer. Sicheng found this oddly charming, knowing that Ten was the kind of person who couldn't simply be contained to one era. He was always needing more, always too big for the world around him.

 

It helped that Donghyuck was staying with them. He grew up in a unique world of current trends, learning the ways of witchcraft that seemed to run in Ten's veins. He took this in stride, turning his apartment into something much more habitable for someone growing up in the twenty-first century. The change in living arrangements was something Sicheng was eternally grateful for, as it gave Ten something to focus on that wasn't Sicheng or his own grief. It was therapeutic, in a way— Ten had a distraction from his own thoughts while bettering the life of someone impressionable.

 

Sicheng was reminded of this when he entered Ten and Johnny's townhouse, letting the door click behind him. He was met with the sight of Donghyuck's school bag leaning up against an armchair, his textbooks peeking out of the half-opened backpack. It made Sicheng smile, and he quietly slipped out of his shoes and made his way to Ten's work room. When he peeked his head through the door and found nobody there, he took a moment to glance through the space.

 

Ten was never one for much organization, and it was evident in the way he haphazardly stacked books throughout the room. They were organized enough on the shelves, but nearly every corner of his writing desk and various spots on the floor were filled with lopsided towers of worn-down covers and spellbooks with loose binding. Perhaps what was most evident were his crystal collection, covering nearly every spare surface of the room. They lined the windowsill, catching the light and turning the room shades of amber and sapphire. Their various edges and finishes caught your eye no matter where you looked, making the entire room sparkle. Sicheng hummed as he picked up a brilliantly pale blue stone, sharp angles catching the light as he held it up and turned it. He returned it to its place on the desk, turning to head out of the room.

 

Just before the door, Sicheng spotted a spare spot on one of Ten's bookshelves. He gasped slightly as the photo stared back at him, the flood of memories returning to his mind. Doyoung was perched carefully on with one leg on a stone wall, the roaring see beneath him. His face is turned back to the camera with a playful grin, his dark hair partially obscuring his face. Sicheng is beside him, smiling slightly while Ten has his arm looped around his neck. The latter is mid-laugh, leaning his head into Sicheng's chest. Looking at the photo leaves Sicheng a melancholy taste in his mouth, and he faintly wondered when he last ventured to the sea.

 

Sicheng walked quietly into the main living room and was greeted by the sight of a familiar man sitting at the table. His phone was resting in one hand, scrolling slowly with his thumb as his other hand brought a mug to his lips.

 

"You really shouldn't snoop, you know," Ten says, a soft smile tugging at his lips. Sicheng sits down next to him, which makes Ten switch his phone off and grip his mug between two hands. The way his silver earrings glint in the light when he tilts his head mesmerizes Sicheng for a moment.

 

"I seem to remember coming home last week to find you pouring over my closet," Sicheng replies quietly, fixing the watch on his wrist.

 

"Hmm," Ten replies, tapping his dark nails against the ceramic mug. "I have a proposition for you."

 

Sicheng is vaguely aware of what he's going to ask. "That sounds dangerous." Ten flashes him a pretty smile and sets his mug aside, leaning over the table slightly.

 

"Kun has a new potential apprentice for you, will you meet him?"

 

Sicheng blinks as his mind processes the words, and he leans back into his chair. “I already have Donghyuck, though.” 

 

“About that.” Ten says, chewing on his bottom lip. “His classes are starting up again soon and he’s so much closer to campus when he’s staying here. I figured I’d pick up the work with him for a while.”

 

“So he’ll be coming over less,” Sicheng says simply. It isn’t accusatory.

 

“Just for a few months. I want to spend as much time as possible with him while I still can,” Ten says, his voice raising slightly as he reaches out to grasp both of Sicheng’s hands in his own. “You understand, right?”

 

Sicheng thinks to the implication of Ten’s words. “I understand.”

 

“So you’ll think about it?” Ten asks, willing to let hope shine in his dark eyes. He squeezes Sicheng’s hand affectionately.

 

“I’ll think about it,” Sicheng assures him, and the relieved smile that dances across Ten’s face is all the encouragement he needs.

 

✞

 

The house that Doyoung and Jaehyun lived in was a sanctuary of a different kind many years ago. It was the place Sicheng called home with Ten and Doyoung, the three of them finding shelter in the place with too many dark walls and not enough windows. Sicheng memorized every inch of the house, and if he closed his eyes he could almost feel the sensation of the three of them making their way down the grand staircase like the wooden floors held their memories.

 

It was much brighter now with the couple, as Doyoung and Jaehyun brought in more inviting furniture and art to cover the walls still covered in an ashy gray wallpaper. The crackling fire and fur rugs made the space feel more like a home with warmth and love compared to the old rickety home the three of them found over two centuries ago. Even the couch Sicheng rested on was inviting, it's soft fabric seeming to beckon him into sitting down. His bare hand rubbed the backrest of the couch as he sat, feeling the sensation beneath his fingertips. He could faintly hear the sound of Doyoung in the kitchen. He returned a minute later with two teacups in hand.

 

“It’s nice to see you out of the house for once,” Doyoung says, small smile forming at his lips. He places the teacups down on the coffee table, smoothing down his shirt before returning to the kitchen for the teapot. Sicheng leaned forward and dusted the bottom of his cup with sugar from the bowl, waiting for Doyoung to return with the tea.

 

"I leave the house all the time," Sicheng murmurs, not bothering to raise his voice. He knows Doyoung could hear him even if he whispered.

 

"Hmm, do you?" Doyoung challenges, entering the room once again with a steaming pot. He pours for Sicheng, the dark liquid filling the cup and melting the sugar. Sicheng makes a nod of approval and takes a teaspoon from a nearby tray, stirring the drink delicately.

 

"I'm not sure if it counts as leaving the house if I'm here or at Ten's anyway," Sicheng replies, bringing the cup to his lips. The faint taste of vanilla and bergamot dances across his tongue, and he hums in satisfaction.

 

"That's true, this is essentially your home," Doyoung muses, pouring his own cup and letting the brew settle. After a moment, he takes the cup and swirls it ever-so-slightly in his hand. "While you were here, I wanted to go over the plans for the ceremony."

 

Sicheng sits back, letting his arm drape across the back of the couch. He stares at the wall as a sigh escapes his lips, and he's aware of Doyoung's eyes on him. "I suppose that is coming up," he says, scratching at the fabric of the furniture with his nails.

 

"It is, and we need to gather supplies before the snow settles into the mountains," Doyoung replies, sipping his drink. He licks his lips, and Sicheng glances over to see the shine across them. Sicheng always felt that Doyoung looked like someone carved from marble, all sharp angles and beauty, but small habits like those remind him how sentient the man before him is.

 

"You look nervous," Sicheng replies, noticing the faint crease between Doyoung's brow.

 

"I'm worried I won't be able to go with Jaehyun this trip," he sighs, setting his cup down and resting his clasped hands between his knees. His gaze is trained on the table between them, and Sicheng can see the storm growing in his eyes.

 

Sicheng sighs and leans forward, taking another drink of his quickly-cooling tea. He frowns and taps the side of the cup with two fingers, and in an instant the drink is hot again. "He lived far longer in that area before you ever came along, I think he'll be alright."

 

The crease between Doyoung's brow only deepens at this. "He insists on taking the bow this time around, says the hunting up North is getting too out of hand." Doyoung's hands scrub against his knees anxiously. "Seems his old coven doesn't have the manpower it used to."

 

Sicheng hums thoughtfully, looking over at his friend. “We can always ask Kun to go with him.” Doyong chews his lip at this, considering it.

 

“Perhaps.”

 

The look Sicheng gives him is a kind one. “We have time to figure it out,” he says, draining his cup. His eyes wander across the room, taking in the various art pieces across the walls. He focuses in on a particular painting, an abstract piece colored with hues of gray and khaki. He knows Doyoung is particularly fond of it, as Sicheng can remember it hanging in various places in the house for decades now. It is familiar, a welcoming reminder that this house holds far more memories than Sicheng will care to admit.

 

As Doyoung leaves to wash out the empty teacups, Sicheng catches the metallic glint in the center of the painting. It’s textured, paint carefully layered and gathered like a river between the two dominating hues— all undeniably gold and silver.

 

✞

 

There is a comforting feeling when entering the apothecary shop— one that Sicheng found solace in over the years in this particular city. The smells of juniper needles and ginger inviting him into the corner shop that overlooked a cobblestone alley. Sicheng knew whenever he walked in through the door, he would be greeted with the familiar sights and sounds, but most of all a warm smile from the man on the other side of the counter.

 

Today, however, was a bit different.

 

Sicheng always felt a sort of apprehension on the eve of obtaining a new apprentice. He had a dozen or more by now, but there was something intimate about sharing a workspace and spell books with what was essentially a stranger. Yet, he still managed a smile when he stepped inside and spotted Kun flipping through pages of a book on magical history.

 

“Good afternoon, Kun,” Sicheng greets politely, hanging his coat near the door and walking carefully as to not disturb the shop cat that preferred laying in the walkway as opposed to her bed.

 

“Good afternoon,” Kun replies easily, looking up at him with a smile and easing his forearms off the wooden counter. A familiar black and white cat hops onto the surface, rubbing her face on the underside of Kun's chin. As Sicheng approaches, she stretches away from her owner and curls her head under Sicheng’s awaiting hand.

 

“I hear you have a new one for me,” Sicheng hums thoughtfully, looking down as he scratches the cat behind the ears. She purrs loudly, shoving her head into Sicheng's hand again as she soaks up the attention. He hears Kun laugh and he meets his eyes.

 

“I certainly do,” Kun says. “I have a feeling you'll like this one.”

 

Sicheng’s brow furrows “I like all my apprentices, eventually.”

 

Kun laughs, palming his forgotten book and sliding it under the counter. “Yeah, but I have a really good feeling about this one. Actually, he's here now.”

 

“Oh?” Sicheng asks, smile slowly melting from his face. He liked taking the time to evaluate his potential apprentices’ files before seeing them face-to-face. It made him feel more prepared, like he has the upper hand in the relationship.

 

Kun moves from behind the counter. “He's in the back picking up some supplies. Hey!”

 

There's a shuffling noise for a few moments, and just as Sicheng turns to look towards the back room a handsome face peeks around the corner.

 

“Oh, hello!” he says cheerfully, flashing Kun a sheepish smile. “Sorry, it looks like I got carried away.”

 

Kun beckons him forward with one hand. “Not a problem, here's the man I wanted you to meet.” The man steps into the room, and the first thing Sicheng noticed is how expressive his face is, shifting from a sheepish expression to surprise and delight in a moment as Kun speaks. He reaches out, eyes shining and lips pulled up in a pretty smile.

 

“Oh, it's so nice to meet you!” the man says, and Sicheng accepts the handshake with a wary smile.

 

“Likewise.”

 

The stranger continues after they've dropped hands, words tumbling out of his mouth with excitement. “Kun has told me so much about you, says you're the best of the best. Oh, I would love the opportunity to learn under someone as skilled as you.” He suddenly straightens his posture, pushing his dark hair out of his face and looking at Sicheng with wide, curious eyes. “Sorry, I guess I'm just excited.”

 

Kun laughs, breaking between them. “That's alright, Yuta. How about I get your paperwork together and Sicheng here can look it over and decide if he'll take you on?”

 

The man— Yuta, Sicheng notes— nods eagerly and wrings his hands together, giving Sicheng a sheepish grin. “Of course, I'm sure you're busy.”

 

Sicheng hums thoughtfully, but something curious blooms just under his skin. He turns to Kun, who hands him a file with a blinding smile. It feels heavy in Sicheng's hands.

 

“Right, well” Sichent begins, feeling like his mouth is filled with sand. “I'll look these over.”

 

Kun nods, looking between him and Yuta. “We'll be in touch, then.” Yuta smiles, giving Sicheng a hopeful glance. When he speaks, his words sound saccharine and airy.

 

“I'm looking forward to your decision.”

 

 

 

Sicheng isn't quite sure why he's feeling so hesitant, but that night he sits with the file in his office, staring down at its contents under the light of the desk lamp. He reaches out and tilts the paper up, noticing how the warm glow of the light seems to catch on the name __Yuta__ as if it were it's own living thing, threatening to waltz right off the page. Sicheng practically expects it to.

 

He glances over towards the cauldron, swirling gray and blue in its glow. It's the way he communicates with Kun and several other witches, simply dropping whatever contents necessary into the fog in order to send it on it's way. Sicheng looks at it as his thumb absentmindedly rubs against the papers in his hand, feeling the scratchy parchment of the contract beneath his grip.

 

With just a simple signature, a tilt of the pen, Sicheng can have Yuta here in the daylight hours, filling his space with his wide smile and his shining eyes. There's something about the fact that's so strange to Sicheng, like the thought itself wrapped its hand around the nape of his neck and holds him to his spot at the desk.

 

Sicheng can't tell if it's a warning or not.

 


	2. Belfry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmm, can we call this 'the calm before the storm'?

It’s a whirlwind, really. Sicheng is always one to keep to himself, to ensure his space is more of a sanctuary to work in and feel comfortable, but that changes after he sends in Yuta’s paperwork. Soon it’s Kun and Yuta showing up to go over the details of the apprenticeship, poking their heads into Sicheng’s study and strolling through his home in a makeshift tour. Yuta would listen intently with eyes wide as Kun lead him from room to room with Sicheng trailing behind them, an unsettling energy gnawing at the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them, but Sicheng found his home to be a private extension of himself in some way.

 

It didn’t help that whenever he caught sight of Yuta, a strange sensation of hesitance crept up his spine. He chalked it up to nerves, to the familiar feeling of uneasiness that always came with taking on a new apprentice. Sicheng knew that after a few days, it would fade away and he and Yuta would fall into a comfortable pattern.

 

It happens. Mostly.

 

What Sicheng knows is this: Yuta’s presence is unlike any other apprentice he’s had. He’s warm without being overbearing, curious without prying too much. Even after Kun leaves and it’s just the two of them, Yuta keeps a respectful distance and listens to Sicheng’s instructions easily. Yuta’s eyes take on a curious glint when he’s shown the workroom, supplies still laid out across the table.

 

“Is this where you mix potions?” he asks curiously, gaze traveling up the shelves in the corner of the room where ingredients stored away in jars are hastily labeled.

 

“Usually, yes,” Sicheng says, taking a rag and wiping down the surface where he had been mixing a new recipe earlier that morning. He turns to face Yuta, but his back is still to Sicheng. He clears his throat quietly, and Yuta spins around with an apologetic smile.

 

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, clasping his hands in front of him. Sicheng gives him a tight-lipped smile.

 

“No need,” he replies, folding the rag in his hand and placing it delicately on the table. “How familiar are you with potions?”

 

Yuta’s eyes brighten, and he stands up a little straighter. “Oh! I practice them as much as I can. I don’t have a ton of supplies, but when I have some spare money I go into Kun’s shop and get what I need. He even gives me tips sometimes.”

 

Sicheng nods, leaning against the table and letting his nails drum lightly on the wood. “He is useful in that respect, yes.”

 

“Have you known him for a long time?” The way Yuta’s brow arches stirs something in Sicheng’s chest, but he pushes it down.

 

“You could say that,” Sicheng replies, glancing up at the shelves that hold dried lavender sprigs and spices. “Few decades, I suppose.” He looks back to Yuta, whose eyes have grown wide.

 

“Decades?” he asks in disbelief, but he quickly bounces on the balls of his feet and dons an apologetic look. “I mean, I’m sorry!” The action makes the corners of Sicheng’s lips twitch.

 

“No need”, he says easily, pushing off the table and walking out of the room. “Let’s discuss your previous history in the craft, shall we?”

 

“Oh, sure,” Yuta says, following behind him. It isn’t until Sicheng enters the kitchen and turns around that he notices the way Yuta is looking around. His eyes are still wide, lips parted ever so slightly as he takes in the scene around him. He seems focused in particular on the large arching windows taking up most of the far wall of the room, hanging plants of ivy and baby’s tears forming makeshift curtain around the edges.

 

“You live here by yourself?” Yuta asks quietly as he stares up at the foliage. His eyes travel towards the stairs, towards where the back bedrooms and storage areas are that Sicheng had filled with boxes of useless items and things he didn’t care much to remember.

 

"I do, yes," Sicheng replies, filling the tea kettle with water before flipping it on. "Although, sometimes Donghyuck stays here when we have long study sessions."

 

"Donghyuck?" Yuta tilts his head in interest. Sicheng stops drying a mug to look up at him.

 

"Oh, that's right. Donghyuck is my other apprentice. I should introduce you two soon, you'll likely be working together," Sicheng says, drying a second cup for Yuta as his eyes light up.

 

"I didn't know you already had someone you were teaching," Yuta laughs, leaning over the counter slightly. "I'd love to meet him."

 

Sicheng nods, hanging up a dish rag and reaching out for the coffee grounds. "He's usually here more, but a friend is taking him in for a while." He glances up to see Yuta nod, brows knit in thought as he takes in the information. It's quiet for a few minutes between them, Yuta watching idly as Sicheng makes coffee for two and pushes the mug towards him. as he focuses on the way the liquid swirls in his cup as he stirs his coffee, he notices it's a comfortable silence.

 

✞

 

The days pass somewhat uneventfully and before Sicheng knows it, it's a Friday afternoon. The thought occurs to him as he's putting away the spellbooks Yuta had been pouring over that day, and he instantly feels the urge to warn his apprentice. It's why he walks out of the study room, glancing from room to room as he searches for Yuta.

 

"Yuta?" Sicheng calls, smoothing down the front of his shirt with his hands. The familiar sensation of cotton is comforting, and he faintly remembers the day Doyoung presented it to him in efforts to make him become more presentable.

 

"In here," Yuta calls, and Sicheng makes his way to the sitting room to find Yuta sitting on the sofa, leaning against the back and letting his head lull off the edge. His eyes are half-lidded as he looks over at Sicheng, as if he could fall asleep at any moment.

 

The back of his hand comes up to his mouth as he yawns, and Sicheng gives him a sympathetic smile.

 

"You did good today, you should rest," Sicheng says quietly, reaching out to pat Yuta's shoulder as he stands next to the couch. The latter looks up at him and flashes a small smile.

 

"Thank you," Yuta says, and it sounds earnest.

 

The look on his face is so kind, that Sicheng feels regretful when he remembers what he came here to do. He clears his throat, reaching up to fix his own collar.

 

"I should tell you," he starts, and he feels a pang of guilt when Yuta instantly becomes alert and sits up straight, "that we may have visitors very soon."

 

"Oh?" Yuta asks, smoothing down the back of his hair where he had dented it from his unnatural position on the couch.

 

"My other apprentice will be stopping by, and that means his caregivers will likely pop in," Sicheng explains, feeling awkward as he explains it. "They're quite ah, interested in you. Ten especially."

 

Yuta scrunches up his nose at this. "Is that really a name?"

 

"It's a nickname," Sicheng sighs. "It fits him, though."

 

They don't have much time after that, because there's an eager knock at the door. Sicheng gives Yuta a guilty smile.

 

"Sorry for what's about to happen," Sicheng says, going to answer the door. Yuta follows suit, standing close behind Sicheng as if looking for some sort of protection. Sicheng barely has time to properly open the door before someone is pushing against it.

 

"Hello, hello!" Ten calls out, squeezing in between a bewildered Johnny and Donghyuck and not even bothering to take off his coat before nudging Sicheng out of the way. He stands before Yuta, giving him a dashing smile. "And _you_ must be Yuta."

  
  
"I am," Yuta replies, giving a polite smile, his hands are in the front pockets of his pants but Ten grasps his wrist and guides him back towards the sitting room. Sicheng looks at them exasperatedly, but he hears Johnny chuckle behind him.

 

"He could barely keep still the whole ride here," Johnny says, clapping a hand on Sicheng's shoulder. "He's eager for a new friend, it seems."

 

"I don't think it's quite that innocent," Sicheng replies with a sigh, glancing over at Johnny. The taller man is hanging up his coat, urging Donghyuck to do the same. After he obliges, Donghyuck turns to Sicheng with a skeptical expression.

 

"Is Ten trying to replace me?" he asks, looking down the hall towards the sitting room. Sicheng's brows knit in confusion.

 

"Why would you think that?" Sicheng replies, reaching out to uncuff the sleeve of Donghyuck's t-shirt where his jacket tangled the garment.

 

"Well," Donghyuck says, "he's currently staring at your apprentice like he's his first-born child."

 

It's true, Sicheng notices, as the three of them enter the sitting room. Ten has pulled Yuta into the center of the room, hands carefully cupping Yuta's face like he's a porcelain doll. Sicheng makes his way to Ten's side, ready to scold him when he sees the light bouncing off Ten's eyes look like stars.

 

"Oh Sicheng, he's lovely," Ten purrs, not even bothering to take his eyes off Yuta as he speaks. Yuta, in turn, gives Sicheng a nervous look.

 

"You're scaring him," Sicheng sighs, urging Ten to take his hands off Yuta. He reluctantly agrees, letting his hands drop to his sides but the excited energy making Ten bounce on his heels.

 

"How has it been being Sicheng's new student? How are you adjusting?" Ten asks, ignoring Sicheng completely and focusing his attention back on Yuta. His eyes are sparkling and his hands are clasped in front of his chest.

 

"One at a time," Johnny says, suppressing a laugh as he sits down on the couch. "Let him breathe." Ten frowns and sits next to Johnny, snuggling into the crook of his arm but still training his gaze on Yuta.

 

"You okay?" Sicheng asks, giving Yuta a concerned look. He simply looks back at Sicheng with a lopsided smile.

 

"Yeah, your friend really is something special," he replies, laughing. It sounds genuine.

 

"He's certainly something," Sicheng says in lieu of a proper response. Yuta turns towards the couch, looking over at Ten and Johnny with a smile.

 

"To answer your questions, it's been great. I'm learning a lot," Yuta says, pausing to glance over at Sicheng and holding his gaze. "I have a really good teacher."

 

Sicheng fights the urge to brush off the compliment, but he can’t stop the warmth that seems to spread in his chest. He clears his throat just as Ten begins to coo.

 

“Oh, isn’t that just the sweetest thing?” Ten asks, leaning over Johnny and getting as close to Yuta as possible. Johnny immediately threads his fingers through Ten’s dark hair, but the latter seems unfazed. “You really are a special one.”

 

Yuta flushes, picking at the hem of his shirt, and Sicheng wonders if it’s a nervous habit. “I’m just being honest.”

 

“He's not that great,” Donghyuck mumbles, shrugging down further into his sweatshirt. Ten looks over at his spot in the armchair with a frown, reaching his leg out to kick him playfully.

 

“Be nice,” Ten hisses, giving Donghyuck a pointed look. The younger man rolls his eyes and looks over at Yuta, flipping up his hood as he does.

 

“Just wait until you get a spell wrong, then he'll really let you have it,” Donghyuck says, voice monotonous. Sicheng looks over at his young apprentice with an amused expression.

 

“You forgot to mention you almost blew up the workroom with that little stunt,” Sicheng says, suppressing a chuckle when Donghyuck's ears tint pink. In turn, Yuta tilts his head back in laughter. The musical, bell-like noise fills the room and Sicheng can see Ten practically melt at the sound.

 

Sicheng pushes off against the wall he had been leaning on, rubbing his hands together. “Enough of the interrogation, I need to go over some final notes for the night with Yuta before I release him.” Ten whines at this, dramatically draping himself over the armrest of the couch.

 

“Fine,” he groans, leaning into Johnny's touch as he rubs the base of his neck. “It's getting late anyway. Do you have that paperwork I was asking about?” Sicheng hums, walking to the desk in the corner and palming a bundle of documents wrapped in worn brown parchment tied together with twine.

 

“Right here.”

 

Ten scrunches up his nose as he accepts the bundle and tucks it to his chest. “You're so ancient.” Sicheng doesn't have to turn to look at Donghyuck to know he's laughing at the statement.

 

“Awfully snarky to someone willing to help you,” Johnny muses, peeling Ten off his lap and standing up. He immediately turns to offer his hand to Ten, who takes it with a sweet smile.

 

“He could stand to use a computer,” Ten replies breezily. He beckons his hand towards the armchair in the corner. “Let's go home, Donghyuck.”

 

Sicheng escorts the three of them to the door, with Yuta trailing behind. They aimlessly chatter as coats are shrugged onto shoulders and scarves are wound tightly around necks. It's an everyday occurrence to Sicheng, but Yuta takes in the sight as if it's horribly fascinating. It isn't until Ten brushes past Yuta with a smile that Sicheng notices his new apprentice’s eyes keep gravitating towards the bundle of documents tucked under Ten's arm. With a final wave of goodbyes, the door clicks shut and leaves Sicheng and Yuta standing alone in the entryway.

 

“They were quite something, huh?” Yuta asks, rubbing his arms with his hands. Sicheng frowns at this, taking note of the thin shirt that barely covers the length of Yuta's arms.

 

“You don't wear warm clothing often,” Sicheng muses aloud, and Yuta freezes with his hands cupping his upper arms.

 

“I suppose I don't,” he replies carefully, looking towards the front door.

 

“Do you not have a sweater you can bring?”

 

The question makes Yuta chuckle, and he turns on his heels and walks back towards the sitting room. “What was it you wanted to go over again?” Sicheng sighs, making a mental note to discuss this at a later time. He follows Yuta into the room, walking straight towards the fireplace and throwing another log on the pile before pointing at the space. In an instant, flames dance down Sicheng's fingers and the hearth erupts into a crackling fire. Sicheng doesn't miss the grateful smile that tugs at the corner of Yuta's mouth.

 

“Well, I wanted to give you some documents to look over regarding Elemental magic. The spells we're studying now tie into the concept,” Sicheng begins, sitting on the armrest of the couch while Yuta takes the chair closest to the fire. “It's a concept we'll work our way up to, ideally.”

 

Yuta looks at him with muted shock. “Are you saying I might be able to do what you just did there?” he asks, pointing at the fire. Sicheng can't help but smile at this.

 

“That's the plan, yes. Normally I'd wait a while longer before I touch on the subject with apprentices, but you're picking up research quickly.” Sicheng adjusts the cuffs of his shirt until they lay flat against his wrists. “How do you feel about that?” Yuta shifts in the chair until he's sitting with perfect posture, and it amuses Sicheng how easily he gives himself away in his body language.

 

“I would be honored,” Yuta replies, and the smile he flashes is nearly blinding. Just for a moment, Sicheng allows himself to relax and enjoy Yuta's presence.

 

“There is one thing, however,” Sicheng begins, taking on a serious tone. “These documents are extremely valuable, you have to keep them in a safe place that nobody can access.”

 

An emotion Sicheng can't quite decipher flashes across Yuta's face, and he sits on his hands. “Okay, I understand. Is it,” he clears his throat before looking at Sicheng. “Is it a lot?”

 

“A few hundred pages worth, yes,” Sicheng replies, brows knitting. “Do you have a place where you can store them safely?”

 

The room is quiet, and a growing sense of worry grows in Sicheng’ throat. As if he's suddenly come to life, Yuta springs out if the chair and begins pacing the room.

 

“Of course, of course!” he replies, giving Sicheng a wide-eyed look before training his gaze back on the ground and muttering something under his breath.

 

“What was that?” Sicheng asks, leaning forward slightly to try and catch Yuta's eyes. The latter finally stops in place and turns, looking Sicheng directly in the eyes.

 

“I can keep them in my trunk.”

 

“You have a trunk?” Sicheng asks skeptically. The question makes Yuta's shoulders sag.

 

“The trunk of my car,” he whispers. “I sleep in the backseat.”

 

And oh, Sicheng's heart clenches and he fights the urge to reach out and comfort Yuta. “Yuta, are you,” he asks carefully. “Are you living in your car?”

 

Yuta's chews his lip and he lets his arms fall to his sides. It takes him a minute before he answers. “It hasn't been for long.”

 

“You should've said something sooner,” Sicheng says with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. He stops when Yuta rushes up to him with a panicked expression.

 

“Oh, I promise I'll find a place to live soon! I'm just between apartments and this was the easiest solution. I won't let anything happen to those documents,” Yuta says, practically tripping over his words. His hands are clasped in front of his chest and he's looking up at Sicheng, pleading with him.

 

“I’m not worried about the documents,” Sicheng says quietly, standing up from his spot on the couch. “I’m worried about you.” Yuta seems to shrink at this response.

 

“Me?” he asks quietly, a mix of relief and confusion on his face. Sicheng nods and walks towards the stairs, silently beckoning for Yuta to follow. The walk is silent until they reach a door at the top of the stairs. With a little effort, Sicheng is able to push the door open to reveal a room stacked with old boxes, of forgotten furniture and dusty paintings covered with tarps. Yuta looks at the room skeptically.

 

“Did you bring me up here to show off your stuff?” he asks, brows knitted. Sicheng laughs, tilting his head back just so.

 

“Just wait.”

 

He closes the door, hand still resting on the doorknob. As he looks down at Yuta with amusement, a mixture of scraping and rustling from behind the door makes Yuta jump. His mouth opens to ask about the commotion, but the second he does so the noises stop. Sicheng gives him a kind smile and opens the door, ushering Yuta inside.

 

“How did you-” Yuta gasps, turning around the room wildly. He's standing in the middle of a luxurious bedroom, soft ivory bed covers piled high on a four-post bed. There's a writing desk tucked under the large window in the corner, a colorful assortment of crystals lining the sill and capturing the luminescence of the moon. Yuta’s eyes land on the large fireplace on the far wall, and his eyes crinkle when he smiles.

 

“You did all this...for me?” he asks, standing in the center of the room and fiddling idly with his hands. Something about it is terribly endearing to Sicheng, and he turns to point to the fireplace. It ignites in an instant, enveloping the room in a warm glow.

 

“You get cold easily,” Sicheng says simply, watching the way the flames dance in the space. He won’t meet Yuta’s eyes, but he’s finding it difficult not to smile. “You can have it if you want.”

 

“Thank you, Sicheng,” Yuta replies earnestly, and it’s a voice that Sicheng hears long after he’s retired to his own room, seeping into his bones and warming him from the inside.

 

✞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this peek into Sicheng's relationships a little more, I definitely wanted this to be a chapter that established his relationship with Yuta and helped them find a rhythm. Next chapter is going to get a lot more intense and we'll meet a new face!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, St. Clarity has a Spotify playlist! If you're curious to see what music plays in my head while I'm thinking about this au, check it out [here!](https://open.spotify.com/user/v4frua2n7tx8qeo696x7np5oz/playlist/12vIdPqu9gOHm9hdvE4LMq?si=_MHAjd7WTpaa3b13CTjIRw)  
> 


	3. Choir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, folks— we're in for a ride.
> 
>  
> 
> [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/v4frua2n7tx8qeo696x7np5oz/playlist/12vIdPqu9gOHm9hdvE4LMq?si=USeakTAbS42ys3sf_3eWiw)
> 
>  
> 
>  [St. Clarity visuals thread](https://twitter.com/pinkwinwin/status/1079120229333008384)

Sicheng rarely sleeps.

 

Of course, he gets the necessary hours to function like a normal being of his stature, but it’s never a source of comfort. There is no moment, no space where he can let his guard down enough to truly relax. Life had been this way for longer than it hadn’t, with whispers of voices he’d prayed would leave him infiltrating his senses when he was most vulnerable. Rarely would they be referred to what human called _dreams,_ as they were mostly hushed voices in the shadowy confines of Sicheng’s mind.

 

It’s why it comes as an unpleasant surprise when he does dream. Of a hand gripping his jaw, of a mouth leaning down with hot breath to peer in his face and press their lips to the shell of his ear, taunting Sicheng with familiar words.

 

_“You are a God.”_

 

✞

 

There was a unique routine that began between the two of them now that Yuta slept a floor below Sicheng. Usually Sicheng would wake first, with Yuta stumbling down the stairs once he was roused from the quiet clinking coming from the kitchen. He would watch with sleep-dusted eyes as Sicheng fixed the two of them coffee, pulling the curtains in the sitting room open to let in the morning light. They eventually would fall into casual conversation, letting their minds wake up from the long hours asleep so they can focus on the task at hand. They're surprisingly productive, the two of them. Sicheng finds that Yuta picks up on concepts and recipes much faster than Donghyuck or any other student he's had. With a creased brow, Yuta takes in every word Sicheng utters and applies them to his studies. After a while, Sicheng is content to stand back and watch Yuta solve his own problems, altering the combination of ingredients for potions and flipping through texts to quiz himself on history.

 

Sicheng barely notices the passage of time until Yuta evidently rolls his shoulders back and stands up straight, kneading at the section with his fingers and peeking out the window only to find dusk chasing the sun out of the sky. They would eventually trudge to the sitting room and relax by the fire before retiring to bed for the night. Sometimes Ten or Doyoung would stop by to check in on them, or Johnny would request a new book and Sicheng would have to fetch it for him, but for most of their time together it was just Sicheng and Yuta alone.

 

He likes it, this time between them. Sicheng finds whatever anxiety he had felt about taking on a new apprentice melts away the longer he spends with Yuta. Others pick up on it too, especially when he finds himself picking up supplies from Doyoung or picking up Donghyuck from Ten's. He's not completely adverse to the transformation that it brings him, in fact Sicheng finds it a welcoming change of pace.

 

✞

 

"You're so much happier now that Yuta's around." Ten's voice echoes slightly in the space, the walls of Doyoung and Jaehyun's living room stretching two stories tall. Slender hands push back his hair, inky black nails disappearing into equally dark locks. "Haven't you noticed?"   
  
Sicheng hums flatly. "It's just nice to be in a routine."   
  
  
"You were in a routine before," Ten chides, adjusting in his place on the couch so he can lean closer to Sicheng. His sparkling eyes take in Sicheng from head to toe, finally landing on his face again. "This is different, it's good."   
  
  
"Is it?" Sicheng asks dismissively, and Ten reaches out to pat his knee affectionately. At this point, Doyoung returns with several books cradled in his arms. He sets them down on the table with a dull _thud_ , with Ten's shocked expression compliments Sicheng's amused one.

 

"This is all about ceremonies?" Ten asks, dark eyes widening as his fingers brush against one of the spines. It's worn and splitting at one of the seams, and after a moment Ten cautiously brings his hand back into his lap. Sicheng sits up straight, resting his elbows on his knees and propping his chin up with his fists.

 

"Sort of," Doyoung replies, brushing his hands on his pants in efforts to rid them of dust. "Some are about the ceremonies themselves, the others are about," he pauses, knitting his brows. "The aftermath." Ten takes in Doyoung's words quietly, nodding with an unreadable expression. He palms the book in top of the pile, dragging it to the edge of the table and setting it in his lap. He flips through it, letting his fingers trace the passages as he reads.

 

Sicheng turns away, looking up at the walls and taking in the art scattered across them. There’s the one that always catches his eye, the gray and khaki colors blending together in it’s center with gold and silver paint, it’s metallic finish catching the fading afternoon light. “That painting’s been in that spot for quite some time now,” Sicheng remarks quietly, not taking his eyes off the piece as Doyoung sighs.

 

“Needs another paint job,” Doyoung replies, and the implication rests heavy on Sicheng’s shoulders.

 

Ten barely registers their conversation, nodding along but not otherwise responding. Instead, he’s pouring over the text, now opening up a second book and switching between the two of them. Sicheng takes this in with a gentle look, looking at the way Ten mouths the words. Even Doyoung is fixated on him, breaking his gaze only to pour them all more tea. The evening passes quietly, only subdued conversations in between hours of reading.

 

✞

 

The chill creeps into the workroom after a particularly bad rainstorm, and Sicheng finds himself frowning at how poorly Yuta is dressed. Only a long sleeved shirt, pushed up at the sleeves to avoid getting ink stains during recipe copying, is covering his arms. While Yuta's distracted, Sicheng takes the chance to slip out of the room and climb the staircase. He slips into his bedroom, gripping the cardigan hanging on the back of his desk chair. By the time he returns Yuta is still buried in work, so he silently drapes it across his apprentice’s shoulders.

 

“Oh,” Yuta says softly, gripping the garment and looking up at Sicheng with wide eyes. “Thank you.” Sicheng merely hums in response, carefully closing the book in front of him.

 

“We should take a break,” Sicheng says quietly, leaning over the desk to switch the light off. He hears Yuta shuffle in the dark, and the two of them enter the sitting room where a fire is already going. Sicheng tends to the room, drawing the curtains closed where inky sky starts to paint the window panes. He packs up open books, stacking them neatly in their respective spaces near the already-filled bookcase. When he returns to the couch, Yuta is giving him an amused smile.

 

“Something funny?” Sicheng asks, more out of curiosity than anything else. Yuta’s smile tugs even wider.

 

“Remember the other day when Doyoung visited?” he asks, and Sicheng nods carefully. “He said you had a lot of… human habits.”   
  
Sicheng straightens his posture, shifting his body towards Yuta. “What do you mean?” Yuta takes a moment to choose his words carefully, tugging the sleeves of the borrowed garment over his hands.

 

“Things like drawing the curtains, checking if the door is locked. I know you don’t—” a pause, and Yuta peeks at Sicheng’s face to see if there’s any irritation. When he finds none, he continues. “I know you don’t have to do that stuff by hand. You can just think about it and use your magic, but you like to do those things the human way, huh?” Sicheng considers this for a moment instead of brushing it off like he does when Doyoung brings up the topic. Something about the way Yuta’s smile seems sincere, the way his eyes catch the light of the fire and turn them nearly amber, makes him want to be truthful. He takes a breath and looks fully at Yuta, and the answer comes easy.

 

“It keeps me grounded.”

 

Yuta nods thoughtfully at this, looking down at his knees and picking at a thread hanging off of them. “I figured as much.”

 

Sicheng doesn’t feel the need to respond, so he sits further back against the couch and lets his eyes slide shut. It’s quiet between them for a few minutes, a comfortable lull in the conversation. Out of habit, Sicheng’s hand comes up and pinches the bridge of his nose. He hears shuffling and a sigh, and a voice speaks over the gentle crackle of the fire.

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to bother you I just— I have another question.”

 

Sicheng removes his hand from his face, sitting up properly and giving Yuta a confused look before relaxing his features. “You weren’t bothering me, it’s just a habit,” he says, and he can see Yuta’s shoulders sag slightly in relief. “Please continue.”

 

“You and Ten keep talking about research, and the other day you went to Doyoung’s house to study more,” Yuta begins, shifting so he’s sitting at the edge of the couch and facing Sicheng fully. His shoulders are squared and he looks serious. “What is it you’re researching, exactly?”

 

Sicheng smiles at this. “The best way I can describe it is like what humans call a wedding.” Yuta’s eyes grow wide, and he continues. “Ten and Johnny want to… unite. It’s something they’ve been thinking about for a long time.”  
  
  
“Wow,” Yuta whispers, taking a deep breath. “That’s amazing.”

 

“It is,” Sicheng agrees, thinking fondly of his friends. “There’s just a certain way they want to do it, so Doyoung and myself need to help.” Yuta thinks about this for a minute and he nods.

 

“Okay, thank you for telling me,” Yuta says, looking at Sicheng with a starry-eyed gaze. “I didn’t know it was something so nice.”

 

Sicheng laughs at this, standing up and stretching his legs. “What do you say we all get together tomorrow night? That way you can talk to Ten himself about it.”

 

Yuta stands as well, pulling the cardigan tighter around his body. The fire crackles between them. “I think that’s a great idea.”

 

✞

 

Dinner is a form of organized chaos, as Sicheng would describe it. They didn’t always spend an evening together in such formality, but Doyoung insisted that they do something special to make Yuta feel welcome. The formal dining table was cleared off of its usual books and other clutter and now sits in the center of the room with a navy tablecloth covering its surface. Ten had gripped Yuta by the arm the second he walked into the house and lead him to the living room, where they now sit and talk between glasses of wine. Johnny and Jaehyun and talking with Donghyuck near the library, giving him advice on future studies.

 

“It’s nice to get together like this,” Doyoung says, opening the oven door and peering inside. Sicheng is slicing vegetables near the sink, offering his services in the kitchen in effort to let Yuta mingle with the rest of the group more.

 

“I thought you were the first one to tell me to use my powers for everything, and here you are cooking dinner like some human,” Sicheng responds, shooting a crooked grin Doyoung’s way. In response, Doyoung walks over and nudges his shoulder against Sicheng’s.

 

“It’s nice to feel human every once in a while,” he replies, reaching up to fix the collar on Sicheng’s shirt. He hums thoughtfully as he does, nimble fingers brushing up against the fabric. “I bought you this.”  
  
  
“You buy me most of of nicer clothes,” Sicheng agrees, finishing up the last of the vegetables and sliding them into a mixing bowl. Doyoung squeezes his upper arm and pushes off the counter, grabbing potholders and opening up the oven.

 

“I hope Yuta likes dinner,” Doyoung says, pulling out the roast and letting the scent fill the air. He places it on the counter carefully, and Sicheng is already pulling out a serving plate from the overhead cabinet.

 

“He’ll love it,” Sicheng reassures, handing over the dish and looking into Doyoung’s eyes. “And he’ll love Jaehyun, too.”   
  
  
"I hope so,” Doyoung says, biting his lip and setting the plate aside. He wipes his hands with a dish towel and clears his throat, putting on his best smile. “Now go collect everyone for dinner, let’s have a good time.”

 

The dining room is soon filled with life, of plates piled high with food and ample conversation flowing between everyone. Yuta is at ease talking to everyone, from Ten gossiping in his ear and Donghyuck laughing at his jokes. Even Jaehyun takes kindly to Yuta, meeting him for the first time that evening and falling into conversation as if they were old friends. It puts Sicheng at ease, to know that Yuta can fit so naturally between the rest of them.

 

The dinner dwindles down until there is nothing but half-empty wine glasses and pieces of a cake that Ten picked up from a nearby bakery littering the table. The windows are painted an inky black, with the long day coming to an end. Sicheng finds himself standing at the end of the table, one arm draped across the back of Yuta’s chair as they talk with Johnny.

 

A familiar knocking pattern sounds at the door, and something icy runs through Sicheng’s veins at the tone. The room grows quiet, with all of them looking towards the front door. A dark expression twists at Doyoung’s features, and he pushes past Ten and Johnny to answer the door.

 

“What do you think it is?” Johnny asks Sicheng, a look of concern flashing across his face. Sicheng looks between Yuta and Donghyuck, noting how their brows crease and they look towards Sicheng with worry. Sicheng takes a deep breath before turning to Johnny with what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

 

“I'm sure everything is fine.”

 

The words bring little comfort to the room when Doyoung returns with someone's arm around his shoulder. Supporting their weight, he lowers their body into a chair that Johnny pulls out for them. Doyoung reaches down and pushes dark hair out of their eyes, and Ten immediately sucks in a sharp breath.

 

“Xiaojun,” he cries, pushing Johnny and Doyoung out of the way to crouch down next to the man. “What are you doing here?” He winces when Ten rests his hands on him, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before looking not at Ten, but directly at Sicheng.

 

“The coven is on the move,” he utters, hissing when he tries to sit up straighter. Doyoung and Ten have to hold him up, but he never breaks eye contact with Sicheng.

 

“How many?” Sicheng asks quietly, moving away from his spot by Yuta and crouching opposite of Ten. He looks at Xiaojun, sweat drenching his skin and matting his hair at the nape of his neck.

 

“Seven or eight, they’re scouting,” Xiaojun replies, taking a deep breath before looking at Sicheng again. “They want to check in on you.” The words make Sicheng taste bile in his throat, and he drops his gaze down to Xiaojun’s lap.

 

“Your leg,” he says, noting how one of Xiaojun’s hands are pressed against the fabric of his pants. He slowly moves it away, turning his palm upward. Crimson coats his hand, dripping down his wrist.

 

“I need somewhere to stay tonight, somewhere I can regenerate,” Xiaojun pants, looking around the room. He catches Doyoung’s eye, and he nods.

 

Doyoung turns to Jaehyun, standing on the opposite side of the table. “Lock everything up.” Jaehyun nods, motioning for Johnny to follow him. They quietly slip out of the room, and Sicheng can hear the many locks turning on the front door, curtains hissing closed as they’re pulled. Doyoung leans in close, until his lips are at the shell of Sicheng’s ear.

 

“Get Donghyuck and Yuta somewhere safe.”

 

✞

 

Living in such a spacious house means there’s no shortage of rooms, which is why Sicheng easily finds bedrooms for each of them on the third floor. With a flick of the wrist, they’re suddenly tidy; welcoming bed covers and crackling fireplaces inviting guests. It’s easy for Sicheng to coax Donghyuck into an early night, his hands shaking as he pulls back the covers to crawl into bed. In a moment of concern, Sicheng reaches over and smooths Donghyuck’s hair out of his eyes before turning off the light.

 

Yuta proves to be more difficult. While he’s far too kind to ask too many prying questions, Sicheng can see them swimming in his eyes. Luckily, Doyoung has a room on the same floor filled with old forgotten boxes, and he finds what he’s looking for easily.

 

“Come with me,” Sicheng says, urging him into a small reading room at the end of the hall. Yuta obliges, taking a seat on the far end of the loveseat. He’s nervously picking at the cuticles of his nails, but he stops fidgeting when Sicheng sits down next to him.

 

“What’s that?” he asks carefully, and Sicheng shifts the book in his hands.

 

“I know you probably have a lot of questions,” Sicheng begins, and he opens the book and situates it so it’s laying heavy across both their laps. Yuta gasps slightly when he sees the photos staring back at him. “So I thought I’d start to show you about my life.”

 

They’re only for a half-century or so, starting with the oldest photos first. Their faded grayscale staring back at them shows Sicheng, Ten, and Doyoung in various places. A candid of Sicheng looking out a window catches Yuta’s attention, and he drags his fingers across it’s bottom edge.

 

“Ten took that one,” Sicheng murmurs, “London, in the sixties.”   
  
  
Yuta’s eyes are wide, and his mouth falls slack. “Incredible.”

 

“What’s incredible,” Sicheng starts, tearing his gaze from the photo album and towards the corner of the room, “is that I forgot nearly every room in this house has a fireplace.” He points at it, feeling the warmth travel down his arm. In an instant, flames erupt in the firebox, enveloping the room in a warm glow. Sicheng turns back to Yuta, noting the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

 

“Let’s continue, shall we?” Sicheng asks, and Yuta nods.

 

Sicheng guides him through the photos, of the memories of the three of them together over the better part of the century. Yuta breaks out in a grin when he sees a particular photo of the trio in the booth of some restaurant. Ten has his arm looped around Sicheng’s neck, Doyoung leaning into them with a bottle to his lips. The edges are beginning to yellow, and Yuta’s fingers glide over the photo with a calculated delicacy. It’s comforting for a while, the two of them pouring over the photos capturing snapshots in Sicheng’s life. The fire crackles in front of them, flames reaching up to lick the stone, and for a moment Sicheng feels utterly at peace. Such peace is disrupted when Yuta’s voice trails off and he looks to the fireplace before training his eyes on Sicheng.

 

“What exactly does it mean to be a natural born witch?” Yuta asks, hands still gripping the photobook in his lap. “I know some of you are immortal, but is there anything else I should know?”

 

Sicheng is silent as he walks over to the writing desk beneath the window, pulling open the main drawer. He returns to Yuta with an envelope and a letter opener, noticing the way Yuta’s head tilts with curiosity. Sicheng sits on the arm of the loveseat, leaning forward for an easier view of what he’s about to do. The way the letter opener twists in the light shows off it’s beauty, the handle engraved with shells and an ornate design. Yuta looks at it in interest, as if he wishes to reach out and touch it. Sicheng takes in a breath, and on the exhale pierces his fingertip with the blade.

 

Yuta takes in a sharp breath, “what are you—” but the words get stuck in his throat as Sicheng presses his thumb to the center of the envelope, smearing it slightly when he lifts it up a few seconds later. He hands the paper over to Yuta with a clean hand, and he stares at the spot of crimson with a bewildered expression. He almost drops the envelope as before his eyes the stain turns hue, and Sicheng watches his blood shift to silver like he has countless times before.

 

“What the hell?” Yuta whispers, eyes widening and hand shaking. He manages to tear his gaze away from the envelope to look at Sicheng, who’s already taking out a handkerchief and wrapping his finger beneath the cloth.

 

“It’s a trademark of the immortal witch, or at least in my coven,” Sicheng answers easily, watching the cream-colored fabric darken in the spot over his wound.

 

“It’s…” Yuta whispers, staring at the handkerchief in Sicheng’s hand as it too turns the same metallic hue.

 

“Silver, it’s also why I don’t produce body heat” Sicheng says. He thinks of Ten and Doyoung, with him for the better part of his life. “None of us do.”

 

Yuta blinks several times, looking down at the envelope before placing it on the end table next to him. “I had no idea,” he says, wringing his hands. Sicheng expects him to be thoroughly disgusted, much like the few before him who learned of such a fate.

 

It’s why he’s so shocked when Yuta takes his injured hand in his, cradling it as if it was made of glass with that same concerned expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up for Sicheng and our friends here. I hope you like the introduction of Xiaojun! If you have any questions or want to scream at me, my Curious Cat is open ♡ Comments and kudos are appreciated!
> 
> Thank you to the love of my life Ayesha for beta’ing and being my ride or die in this wacky world of chaptered fics


	4. Clerestory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter deals with the aftermath of a character who has been through violence/torture. It’s meant to be an intense scene, and my feelings will not be hurt if you need to sit this one out for your own well being. Your mental health is #1, please take care of yourself.
> 
> Also, there’s a johnten spinoff meant to be read between chapter 3 and this chapter! Here is the [link](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18346496) if you’d like to check it out.
> 
>  
> 
> My endless love to my beta and partner-in-crime [Ayesha](https://twitter.com/minhyukwithagun), and to [johntographique](https://twitter.com/johntographique) for letting me scream in your DMs about my dark little witch children. 
> 
>  
> 
> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/v4frua2n7tx8qeo696x7np5oz/playlist/12vIdPqu9gOHm9hdvE4LMq?si=QB8jWa7BQM6_bFCpBHm2wQ)  
> [visual thread](https://twitter.com/pinkwinwin/status/1079120229333008384)
> 
>  
> 
>  

The days move swiftly after that, as if a fire is ignited under Sicheng and the rest of them as they adjust to their new reality. Xiaojun sleeps for two days straight, all holed up in one of Doyoung’s spare rooms. No one dares to rouse him, figuring he meant it when he said he needed somewhere to regenerate. Johnny takes Donghyuck back home while Ten stays at Doyoung and Jaehyun’s, pacing the parlor as he waits for Xiaojun to awaken.

 

Sicheng figures it’s too much to expose Yuta to at one time, so he takes him back home the next morning. There’s a sense of urgency surrounding all of them, and it sits heavy even as Sicheng attempts to return Yuta and himself to their old schedule. The silences are no longer comfortable, instead filled with a subtle uneasiness as the weight of something foreboding looms over them. Yuta doesn’t ask, perhaps as if he can see the wheels turning in Sicheng’s head and he figures the kindest thing he can do is to give him the space he needs.

 

Sicheng gives Yuta the morning off from studying a week after Xiaojun’s arrival in order to pay the man in question a visit. The energy in Doyoung’s house is like waiting for an exhale that never comes, the expectancy of what could potentially be their biggest oppressor hangs around the house. Sicheng can feel it when he walks into the entryway with Yuta, the latter trailing his heels hesitantly as if he’s worried he’s intruding.

 

“You don’t have to worry, you’re always welcome here,” Sicheng assures Yuta, and he can see his shoulders visibly relax. “I’m just not sure what’s waiting for us in that room.” Yuta seems to think this over for a moment, wringing his hands before shoving them into the pockets of his hoodie.  
  
  
“Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.” He takes a deep breath before looking at Sicheng. “Right?” Sicheng opens his mouth to answer, but another voice reverberates throughout the room.

 

“ _Sicheng_ ,” Ten urgently calls as he swiftly walks into the entryway from one of the back rooms. His lips are pulled into a frown and his eyes are sharp enough to cut glass, but they shine with a moment of clarity when he sees that Yuta is with him. “It’s best that he stays downstairs.”  
  
  
“What’s the problem?” Sicheng asks severely, fearing the worst. He listens for the sound of a commotion upstairs, but he hears nothing.

 

“You need to see this,” comes Ten’s reply, and the look in his eyes is enough to crease Sicheng’s brow. He nods and Ten strides up the stairs, hurried footsteps echoing against the dark chestnut of the staircase.

 

“I’ll be back soon, why don’t you see if Johnny is in the library?” Sicheng says softly, taking in the way Yuta bites his bottom lip. He knows that Yuta wants to ask, but he merely nods his head and walks out of the room and down the hall. Sicheng climbs the stairs, meeting up with Ten at the top. The frown on his face has only deepened.  
  


 

“Sicheng,” Ten starts again, “He has one.”

 

Sicheng can feel the muscles in his neck tighten and his breath hitch, but he controls his expression into a blank slate. “Show me.” Ten walks with authority down the hall and Sicheng follows suit, pushing open the door where he can hear hushed conversation. Xiaojun is laying on his back on the bed, eyes scrunched in pain. Doyoung is speaking with Kun as the latter mixes a paste in a bowl, stopping every so often to crush herbs into the mixture.

 

“Xiaojun?” Ten asks carefully, walking towards the bed and resting a hand on his shoulder. Xiaojun exhales at this, body sagging into the mattress. He reaches up and squeezes Ten’s hand but doesn’t respond. Sicheng stands next to them, looking between them and Doyoung before speaking.

 

“How fresh is it?” he asks, voice heavy with implication. Doyoung stops his conversation and turns to Sicheng, expression unreadable save for the furrow of his brow.

 

“Couple weeks,” he replies quietly. The room is silent as Sicheng’s eyes close and he takes a deep breath. He thinks about the agony Xiaojun must feel every time something so much as brushes up against the wound. Something deep in the recesses of Sicheng’s mind remembers years ago, holding Doyoung to his chest as his screams ripped through the night sky. This is a special sort of cruelty, one that can only be helped with time.

 

“Xiaojun,” Sicheng says quietly, and he waits for his eyes to open before he continues. “Can I see?” Xiaojun nods at this, glancing at Ten helplessly. Ten swallows thickly at this, lifting the sheet conservatively as to not expose the younger man too much.

 

It’s a horrible sight, it always is. The circular mark is raised up on the skin of Xiaojun’s upper thigh, a mixture of muddled crimson and silver blood staring back at Sicheng. The runes are formed in a perfect circle, and he’s seen enough to know that each one is imagined specifically for the poor individual who has to carry this mark like a warning. Sicheng nods his head once, and Ten carefully drapes the fabric back over the wound as to not disturb it.

 

It’s Doyoung who speaks first, his voice heavy and dark. “I think the techniques are getting more advanced.”

 

“Are you sure?” Sicheng asks, and he feels his fingers tingle with static. He waits for Doyoung to reply, but when he does it only makes Sicheng’s heart sink more.

 

“I think,” Doyoung says, walking to the other side of the bed and looking down at Xiaojun. “I think you need to see it for yourself. With Xiaojun’s permission of course.”

 

Xiaojun is already nodding and gripping whatever corner of the sheet he can, but Sicheng stops him with an agonized look. “You don’t have to do this, Xiaojun.”

 

“I do,” Xiaojun replies, his voice quiet but even. He’s staring right at Sicheng, bravery carved into his brow. “It’s getting out of control.”  
  
  
“He brushed up against the mark in his sleep the other night,” Kun says, speaking up for the first time since Sicheng’s arrival. He’s put the mixture aside and instead he’s standing at the foot of the bed, hands gripping the frame hard enough to splinter it. “I’ve never seen someone in pain for that long.”

 

The air feels suffocating in the room, and Sicheng can faintly hear the clock at the end of the hall ticking, signaling the seconds of heavy silence. He asks Xiaojun for confirmation once more, and when he sees the younger witch agree he motions for Ten to apply the balm to Xiaojun’s wound.

 

It is hell. Ten barely gets a chance to apply the balm before Xiaojun’s frame is lurching out of bed, spine seemingly curved at an unnatural angle like he’s being pulled to the ceiling by a rope around his waist. It sounds like he’s choking, the way he claws at his neck and gasps for air. Sicheng watches Xiaojun’s normally dark-colored eyes turn a milky white-blue, reminiscent of the fog rolling across a stormy ocean. His frail body thrashes around the mattress and Doyoung and Ten have no choice but to hold him down by the shoulders lest he hurt himself. Kun looks horrified, his hands reaching out to comfort but he doesn’t know what to do so they hang helplessly in the air. Xiaojun’s looking around the room wildly, but Sicheng knows he’s not truly seeing what’s going on in the room. What Xiaojun is seeing is far more sinister.

 

What is perhaps most stunning, is the way that even in tortured blindness, his hands stretch out in effort to meet Kun’s.

 

✞

It’s difficult to look Yuta in the eye after Sicheng climbs back down the stairs, and the two of them return home in silence. Sicheng doesn’t want to worry Yuta, but he knows he’s in too deep, already influenced by the past that they would all rather try and forget. Sicheng can only direct his apprentice's focus to more work, but he can see the concern in Yuta's eyes.

 

It happens in small moments, the way Yuta seems to turn around and focus Sicheng's own mind. He'll approach Sicheng's desk after hours of research with coffee just the way he likes it, a well-worn novel in a language he can't understand tucked under his arm. These are subtle, thoughtful things that Sicheng would have never expected Yuta to pay any attention to— and they extend to something Sicheng would rather not address.

 

“Is it okay if I drive?” Yuta asks, already walking towards the car parked on the street. It's a morning planned to be out in the city, gathering supplies from Kun's shop and several other places scattered in the far corners of inconspicuous streets that Sicheng has found allies in. Sicheng says nothing, but he follows him as he unlocks the vehicle and slips inside. It’s nothing fancy, the leather seats a rich black and the dashboard glowing with the backlight radio. There is some kind of tense feeling that takes over Sicheng’s shoulders, and he finds himself clasping his hands together and shoving them between his knees as Yuta adjusts his seat.

 

Yuta looks over from the driver seat, making eye contact with Sicheng and flashing him a grin before leaning in to play with the radio. He presses a button and turns the dial slightly until a gentle acoustic song is filtering through the speakers. It’s oddly calming, and Sicheng finds himself relaxing against the back of his seat as Yuta pulls away from the curb and merges into traffic.

 

“You seem awfully tense,” Yuta says, furrowing his brow and glancing at Sicheng slightly before focusing back on the road. It makes him sigh, glancing out the windows instead of looking at Yuta when he speaks.

 

“I never felt the need for cars,” Sicheng replied quietly. “Must faster to just teleport yourself somewhere.”

 

Yuta laughs unabashedly, “Not everyone can teleport.” He adjusts his hands on the wheel before glancing over at Sicheng again. “Don’t tell me you’re scared?”

 

“Not scared,” Sicheng says, smoothing down the front of his shirt, “just think it’s unnecessary.”

 

Sicheng gives him directions to Kun’s shop, knowing that he has the spare key tucked in the breast pocket of his coat. They ride mostly in silence save for the radio between them, but when Yuta pulls up to the shop and finds it dark he begins to protest.

 

“It’s fine,” Sicheng says, slipping the key out of his pocket and showing Yuta. He instructs Yuta to let the car idle as he slips out into the cool afternoon air, feet hitting the pavement as he makes his way to the door. Nimble fingers unlock the door and the bell chimes overhead. Sicheng spies the books bound together with twine, a wrapped bundle of dried herbs on top of it. He picks up the pile, but something catches his eye when he does. It’s a book laying flat on the counter near where Kun likes to sit, the page opened to a section on harnessing the sea’s energy for conjuration. It sparks an idea in the forefront of Sicheng’s mind, and he returns to the car with a new sense of purpose for the day.

 

“There’s somewhere I’d like to go,” Sicheng says to Yuta after he secures the goods from Kun in the trunk of the car, “but we have another stop to make before that.” Yuta tilts his head slightly in curiosity, but he doesn’t pry as Sicheng directs him to a quieter part of the city. They eventually pull up to a humble storefront, it’s faded paint on the front door making it seem one with the rest of the building. Sicheng urges Yuta to follow him, and they both make their way inside the tailor shop. A young woman with a round face and sparkling eyes peeks out from behind a mannequin.

 

“Hello, Sicheng!” she replies, tucking in a soft tape measure into her pants pocket and reaching her hand out. Sicheng shakes her hand and offers her a smile.

 

“Heejin, nice to see you again,” he says, and he turns to Yuta slightly. “This is my new apprentice, Yuta.” Her face lights up even more, nearly bouncing in her loafers as she reaches out to shake Yuta’s hand.

 

“Nice to meet you!” she says, and her energy seems to rub off on Yuta because he’s grinning right back at her. Sicheng clears his throat and addresses Heejin.

 

“I’d like you to take his measurements, if possible.”

 

“Of course,” she replies, ushering Yuta into the center of the room where she instructs him to stand on a small platform. Yuta looks at Sicheng with a puzzled look, but he merely smiles in response and takes a seat in a leather chair by the window. He watches as Heejin measures across Yuta’s shoulders and down his arms, making idle conversation every so often. It isn’t until she slips into the back to get fabric swatches that Yuta speaks in a hushed whisper to Sicheng. 

 

“Sicheng, I can’t afford new clothes,” he says sheepishly, looking guilty. Sicheng sighs and flips closed the magazine he had been thumbing through before looking at Yuta.

 

“I don’t expect you to,” he says, standing up and walking towards Yuta. He reaches out to smooth down the shirt sleeve that Heejin had wrinkled in her measurements. “But I can.” Heejin returns before Yuta can protest, showing the two of them a variety of fabrics. He lets Yuta select his favorite and with a nod of approval, hands it back to Heejin. He can feel Yuta’s eyes on his back as Sicheng goes over details of the design at the front desk, and soon she’s waving them off with a grin.

 

“When do we need to come back?” Yuta asks Sicheng quietly, tugging on his sweatshirt and looking at him. Sicheng bites back a laugh at this, instead reaching out to untwist the hood resting awkwardly against Yuta’s back.

 

“We don’t, it’ll be waiting for us at home.” Yuta gives him a puzzled look as they climb into the car, and for the first time in a while Sicheng genuinely laughs.

 

“Don’t tell me you think I’d trust a human tailor with something like this?”

 

And it’s true, because by the time they’ve returned home there’s a sleek black garment bag hanging on the door to Sicheng’s study. He lets Yuta open it, and a small smile tugs at his lips when he sees the coat. Thick and luxurious, nipped in at the waist and fabric the color of the ocean during a storm.

 

✞

 

There was always a healthy amount of respect between Sicheng and Jaehyun, even after the centuries of knowing each other. Something about being an outsider, a witch from another coven, made Jaehyun on edge when he first started seeing Doyoung. Sicheng seemed to sense this, the subtle tenseness hanging around Jaehyun’s shoulders, which is why he always made an effort to engage Jaehyun in conversation. Sicheng didn’t consider himself particularly social, especially when compared to the likes of Ten and Doyoung, but he and Jaehyun eventually fell into a rhythm together. There were things they learned from each other— Sicheng taught him more interpersonal spells while Jaehyun shared his knowledge on combat magic. A unique friendship formed between them, which is why Sicheng does not find it particularly surprising when Jaehyun shows up alone on his doorstep.

 

“Come in,” Sicheng says, holding open the door and letting Jaehyun inside and offering to hang up his coat. Jaehyun gives him a nod and a small smile, handing off his coat and slipping out of his shoes before padding to the sitting room. Sicheng hangs up the outerwear, taking mental note of how worn the leather is. He laughs as he enters the sitting room, looking pointedly at Jaehyun.

 

“Doyoung bothers me about my wardrobe all the time, I can’t believe he lets you walk around with that raggedy thing.” Jaehyun laughs at this, the action scrunching his nose slightly.

 

“It’s been with me through a lot, I guess he knows I won’t part with that jacket,” he says, but his smile drops after a moment and he leans forward. “I did come here for something serious, though.”

 

“Of course,” Sicheng replies, focusing his attention and looking at Jaehyun with a serious expression. He sees the way Jaehyun rubs the back of his neck, the sign of an old nervous habit.

 

"I need to go hunt," he says, finally looking at Sicheng. His eyes look a shade darker than their usual hue. "I can scout, see how close they are."

 

Sicheng thinks for a minute before nodding thoughtfully. "I think that's best. Are you bringing Doyoung?"

 

"No," he answers, jaw firm. "I don't want to bring anyone from the coven in case we get stopped."

 

"I can see why that would be trouble," Sicheng says, taking a moment to rub the bridge of his nose. "Please be careful." Jaehyun smiles at this, reaching out to pat Sicheng's knee gently.

 

"I'm thinking if it is as bad as we think it is, it might be worth looking into getting Yuta trained," Jaehyun adds quietly, smile dropping from his face. Ice seems to ruin in Sicheng's veins at this.

 

"Combat magic is incredibly dangerous for an apprentice," Sicheng replies, looking at Jaehyun warily. "I don't want to expose him to that unless absolutely necessary." Jaehyun nods at this, threading his fingers through his hair before answering.

 

"We're about to find out how necessary it is."

✞

 

The air in winter is always chilling, the kind of cold that soaks under your skin and leaks into your bones. This is especially true near bodies of water, where wind is far more likely to kick up and make you wish you were in the comforts of your own home.

 

Sicheng never really was bothered by this.

 

It's comforting, in a way, to walk along the shore and know you're the only one there during an off season. He tightens the coat collar around his neck, making mental note to thank Heejin the next time he sees her. She produced her own garment for Sicheng, a silent thank you for business that he couldn't help but wonder if it was made to compliment Yuta's own. The sand sounds quiet beneath their footsteps, and it's only when a particularly strong breeze ruffles Yuta's hair does he make a small noise of discomfort.

 

"Sorry," Sicheng says quietly. Yuta merely laughs and shakes his head, his dark hair only further falling out of place.

 

"What else can you expect with weather like this?" Sicheng nods, turning his attention back towards the sand he walks on.

 

"Thank you for coming here with me," Sicheng says quietly, not knowing how to articulate the way he feels. “This place means a lot to me.” He sees a section of the sand covered in driftwood and walks towards it. He pulls his hand out of his pocket and brushes off a flat surface, sitting down and leaving enough room for Yuta to join him.

 

“Do you have a lot of memories here?” Yuta asks, sitting down next to Sicheng on the large piece of driftwood. Sicheng stares out at the water before responding, taking note of how the waves rise and fall against a foggy sky.

 

“Yes, but they’re very hazy,” Sicheng answers, and mostly to himself he adds “I wish I could make them more prominent.” He slides his hand into the inner pocket of his coat, his fingers meeting cold metal.

 

“What is it?” Yuta asks quietly, noticing the severe look on Sicheng’s face. His body is turned towards Sicheng, and Yuta’s brow furrows when he pulls the dagger out of its case.

 

“I always feel like I need to bring this here,” Sicheng answers, staring down at the weapon. He turns it in his hand, letting the low light gleam off the surface. Yuta studies it carefully, looking between Sicheng and the dagger. Sicheng isn’t surprised by the question that comes next.

 

“Who gave it to you?” Yuta questions, voice quiet like he’s worried the words themselves are more of a weapon than the blade in Sicheng’s hands.

 

A blade is a blade until it isn’t. This, Sicheng knows. “I don’t remember,” he answers, the words heavy in their weight, “but I think I loved them.”

 

✞

 

Studying keeps Yuta busy most days, Sicheng finds. He’s impressed at how much Yuta wants to learn, always asking to bring a spare book or two up to his room after the work day was done. Sicheng never turned him down, of course, letting him steal away as many books as he could carry in his arms. Everything from spell books to magical history, there was no shortage of subjects for Yuta to spend his nights pouring over. Even Donghyuck notices, making the occasional joke about the new apprentice being more of a bookworm than even Sicheng.

 

A part of Sicheng wonders if it’s Yuta’s way of preparing, of arming himself with all the information on magic that he can before the coven returns. The thought burns hot in Sicheng’s chest, and he tries his best to push it away.

 

Jaehyun has been gone for two days, sending the occasional message updating them on the surroundings. The discrete envelopes pop up in Sicheng’s office, and he can only guess that he’s relaying the same information to Doyoung and Ten. There’s no sign of anyone yet, but Jaehyun is barely on the outskirts of the county lines. There is still time, still so many places to hide. Sicheng tries to humble himself with this information, tries to remind himself not to let his guard down. When he looks over at Yuta talking with Donghyuck or reading a potions recipe, the reminder is almost painful.

 

People are filtering in and out of Sicheng’s home, and rarely does he get a moment with Yuta alone. There’s always Ten looking for supplies for Johnny, or Doyoung meeting with Sicheng to discuss Jaehyun’s findings. Even Donghyuck is spending more time at home, sometimes asking Ten if he can stay the night or just long enough for dinner. It seems as if Sicheng’s home is a makeshift haven, and he’s grateful for that.

 

Although, he does miss his quiet evenings with Yuta.

 

It’s nothing major, just casual conversation over a glass of wine or some extra tips on recipe crafting, but it’s still a piece of Sicheng’s schedule that’s been casted aside. Now when they are finally alone, exhaustion hangs around their shoulders or Yuta decides to curl up by the fire with a magical history book. It’s nothing bad, but it’s certainly different.

 

Tonight, however, has a certain uneasiness surrounding their evening like a blanket of fog. It comes when Yuta sits next to Sicheng on the couch, book open and severe frown carved on his face. His fingers glide against the page as he reads, his lips occasionally mouthing the words, and Sicheng can tell something is bothering him.

 

“What is it?” Sicheng asks, but something in the back of his mind tells him he already knows.  
  


“I’ve been reading magical history books lately…” Yuta starts, but trails off again to read a quick passage to himself. “There’s a lot on covens.”

 

“Mmm,” Sicheng replies, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward in his spot on the couch. He’s eyeing Yuta carefully, looking for any shift in his expression.

 

“There’s one I wanted to ask you about, they seem almost surreal.”

 

Sicheng swallows thickly. “Go on.”

 

Yuta flips through the book until he finds the passage he’s looking for, and he turns it in his lap so it’s angled more towards Sicheng. The text is old and faded, but Yuta’s finger taps at the top corner of the page where a crest stares back at him. A two-headed snake encased in silver blood.

 

“This coven, they couldn’t possibly…” Yuta begins, but he bites his lip and furrows his brow. “ _Argentum_. They’re only an old legend, this is the only book that talked about them.”

 

“There isn’t a lot of information about them that’s been made to the public,” Sicheng answers quietly, looking at the crest like he fears the serpent would slide off the page and strike at any moment. He hears Yuta take in a shaky breath, and Sicheng’s eyes land on his face again.

 

“All my life, I’ve only heard whispered rumors about them, about how awful they are. They’ve done unspeakable things,” Yuta says, his voice meek. Sicheng can see the hand propping the book up is shaking slightly. “But this coven isn’t real, right Sicheng?”

 

Sicheng takes in the way Yuta’s face looks now, carved with worry and tinted with naivety. He wants to capture this moment like a photograph in his mind’s eye, to have it to return to whenever he needs it. His one center of peace.

 

“They are real,” Sicheng says, his voice feeling like poison in his mouth.“I know they’re real, because I created them.”

 

✞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please come yell in my cc if this chapter made you scream, it fuels my demon-y behavior. Also yes, that is Loona's Heejin making an appearance.


	5. Nave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're ready for some romance and LUWOO. Extra big thanks to Ayesha for beta'ing this Big Boy Chapter.
> 
> [playlist link](https://open.spotify.com/user/v4frua2n7tx8qeo696x7np5oz/playlist/12vIdPqu9gOHm9hdvE4LMq?si=qcAQ5oaPT4CugccsGee-rw)   
>  [visual thread](https://twitter.com/pinkwinwin/status/1079120229333008384)

Conversations aren’t usually the easiest thing for Sicheng to navigate, and they’re even more difficult when they’re so delicate in nature. It’s why when Yuta tells himself he needs time, Sicheng lets him do so wordlessly. The air is still, stuffocating between them. Their shared home feels quieter now, when before it was so full of life. Sicheng gives Yuta a few days off to process everything. It’s good, Sicheng has to mentally tell himself, that this way he can focus on the updates from Jaehyun and discussing the nature with Ten and Doyoung. He tells himself this, and yet the loneliness creeps up his spine at night and stays there long after the sun has lit up the sky once more.

 

He expects Yuta to say this is all too much, to pack up and leave his life as quickly as he entered it. A part of Sicheng is too fearful to approach him, worried that one look at Sicheng will make Yuta realize that he can’t handle everything that Sicheng’s past is. It’s why he's hesitant when he escapes out the back to visit the garden and finds Yuta there. He almost thinks to turn around, to disappear the same way he came in.

 

"Oh," Sicheng says, feeling very much awkward. "I'm sorry I'll just…" he trails off, taking a step backwards and preparing to turn on his heels. The way that Yuta looks at him makes Sicheng hesitate, so Yuta waves him over.

 

"Come here."

 

Yuta slides over on the stone bench to make room for Sicheng. He sits next to Yuta, noticing how this particular part of the garden is more overgrown than most areas. He makes a mental note to trim the bushes next week. He's trying anything to keep his mind occupied as they two sit in silence for what feels like a lifetime, but eventually Yuta speaks again.

 

"I think you're a good person," Yuta says quietly, and Sicheng looks over at him. He's staring out at the hanging ivories nestled on the far wall of the house, his dark hair waving slightly in the breeze. There's a sense of calm on his features, which brings Sicheng relief.

 

"I don't often feel like a good person," Sicheng replies quietly.

 

Yuta truly looks at him this time, and _oh_ how it sends a pang right into Sicheng's heart. It's a beat before Yuta gestures quietly at Sicheng's hands in a sort of silent question of consent. Sicheng nods and Yuta takes one of his hands in his own, interlocking their fingers and playing with the simple rings that adorn Sicheng's fingers. He admires the jewelry as he speaks.

 

"I think you have a lot to explain to me, but I don't feel fear when I'm with you," Yuta says, glancing up at him through dark lashes before continuing. "I don't think any of you are bad."

 

Sicheng lets out a breath he didn't realize was sitting heavy in his lungs. "I can tell you anything you want to know," he responds, before adding, "I can tell you everything."

 

Yuta smiles at this, and Sicheng can see the way his shoulders relax, as if all the tension was slowly leaving his body. "I appreciate that, thank you."

 

Sicheng nods at this, and the pair fall into silence again. Yuta looks out into the garden, eventually unthreading their hands and reaching out to feel the soft petal of a flower. Its pale blue hue shines back at him, and Yuta's lips quip into a smile.

 

Perhaps it is bravery or relief, or a strange combination thereof, but when Yuta settles back into his spot next to Sicheng, he finds himself smoothing down Yuta's hair in a caress that stops for a moment at the back of his head.

 

"Thank you," Sicheng mutters, and he finds it's all he needs to say.

 

✞

 

It feels a little easier to breathe now that Sicheng has cleared the air with Yuta, and he spends his days working with him on new spells and letting him watch as Sicheng maps out the places Jaehyun describes in his letters home. It’s almost endearing, the way Yuta’s eyes still go wide whenever an envelope flutters from the ceiling to Sicheng’s desk out of nowhere. Yuta asks Sicheng for extra ingredients in order to practice potion recipes, which prompts Sicheng to bring him to Kun’s shop. It had been a few weeks since they had last seen Kun, choosing to take some time away from the shop and focus on more pressing matters. It had been decided that Xiaojun would recover best at Kun’s home where he could receive constant medical treatment if necessary. Sicheng figures this is as good a time as any to check in on the witch, and he smiles when the bell chimes over the top of the door as they enter.

 

Kun looks up from his spot at the counter, flashing Sicheng and Yuta a wide grin. “Welcome!”

 

“Nice to see you, Kun,” Sicheng says, and Yuta waves at him enthusiastically. They both walk to the counter, being met with the face of a familiar feline as the store can jumps on the counter and trills. Yuta laughs and pets the animal, it’s face rubbing into his palm. Sicheng smiles at them for a moment before turning his attention to Kun, noticing the ease that washes over his features.

 

“How is Xiaojun?” Sicheng asks, and Kun beams.

 

“Healing well. It’s a process, but he hasn’t injured it further.”   
  
  
“So no more visions?” Sicheng is impressed at both Kun’s medicine and Xiaojun’s ability to avoid the area.

 

Kun shakes his head, and there’s a look of relief in his eyes. “No, he’s perfect.”

 

There’s a tenderness in Kun’s voice, one that confirms Sicheng’s suspicions. A bittersweet feeling creeps into his heart, and Sicheng wants to mention it, just so he can hear it for himself. “Kun, you’ve had quite the history.”   
  
  
It isn’t a question, but Kun answers with a smile anyway. “I knew you were a clever one.” Yuta hears this and looks at the pair of them, the cat jumping down to rub against his legs.  
  


“You’ve met Xiaojun before?” Yuta asks carefully, unsure if he can insert himself into the conversation. Kun nods slightly at his words.  
  


“A long time ago, back when he was still in the coven that Sicheng was a part of.” Something flickers in Kun’s eyes, but it quickly dissipates. “And now I have him back.”   
  
  
Sicheng smiles gently at Kun, reaching out to pat his hand. “He’s safe now, with you.”  
  


Kun lets out a breath at this, looking relieved. “I’m glad for it, but I have more news.” Yuta and Sicheng look at each other for a moment before looking back at Kun.  
  


“What is it?” Sicheng asks carefully.  
  


“It’s good news,” Kun reassures, “but Lucas and Jungwoo heard about Argentum coming back, so they’ve decided to stay with you for a while.” Siching raises his brows in surprise.   
  
  
“Oh, this is good news. They haven’t been around here in some time.”   
  
  
“Who?” Yuta asks, shifting his weight from one leg to another. Sicheng makes a mental note to clear a room for them to stay.  
  
  


“Former apprentices, they left a while ago to travel the world, hone in their skills.” Sicheng looks at Yuta, smiling apologetically. “They’re a bit, ah, eccentric. You’ll have to prepare yourself.” Yuta nods, eyes wide at this.  
  
  


Kun laughs, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Surely they aren’t _that_ bad now.”

✞  
  


Sicheng takes pride in his home, in the ability to keep it safe and comforting. His garden is carefully tended, ivy licking up the outer wall of the home and creating a curtain from the rest of the world. He keeps a fireplace lit in nearly every room, keeping the spaces warm and free from any dust even if he hasn’t used most of the space in a few decades. He wants someone to be able to walk in and feel right at home, especially with Yuta living here with him. It’s why he sighs in resignation when the lights start flickering on and off. Yuta looks at him concerned from his spot at the kitchen island.   
  
  
“What’s going on?” he asks, clutching his coffee cup closer to him. Sicheng tosses the towel he was using to dry dishes onto the counter with a groan.  
  


“Company is here and they’re making their presence known.”  
  


Sicheng gestures for Yuta to follow him and they make their way to the front door. Even through the paneled wood, Sicheng can hear a boisterous laugh and a softer voice gently chastising him. He rests his hand on the doorknob, shaking his head before opening the door. They’re met by the sight of two young witches on Sicheng’s doorstep.  
  


“Lucas, will you behave?” the one with pale blonde hair says, resting his hand on the other one’s back. Lucas is doubled over in laughter but he straightens up his posture, standing even taller than the thin boy at his side. His sandy blonde hair is in his eyes and he shakes it free, turning to Sicheng and Yuta with an ear-to-ear grin.

  
“How else will Sicheng know I’m here?” Lucas replies, looking straight at Sicheng and wagging his eyebrows. Sicheng sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, holding the door open.  
  


“Will you just come inside?”  
  


The two of them step inside, Lucas already hurrying to the sitting room. The fair-haired witch lags behind, stopping to smile at Yuta with kind eyes and stretch out his hand.  
  


“I’m Jungwoo,” he says, his voice melodic. Yuta takes his hand and shakes it lightly, and Jungwoo beams. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Yuta.”   
  
  
“You have?” Yuta blinks, and Sicheng stands next to them.   
  
  
“From Kun, I’m sure,” he assures Yuta, before turning his attention to Jungwoo. “I’m sure they stopped by his store first, they’re quite close with him.”   
  
  
Jungwoo nods at this, his hair flopping slightly. “We did, but we didn’t want to impose.” Sicheng hears a commotion coming from the sitting room, a noise that resembles a stack of books falling over, and Jungwoo glances over in that direction. “Well, _I_ didn’t want to impose.”  
  


Sicheng laughs, urging Jungwoo and Yuta into the sitting room. “Let’s see what he’s done now.” They walk through the hallway and into the sitting room, the sight of Lucas standing around a pile of books welcoming them. Lucas gives them a sheepish smile and begins stacking the books. Jungwoo shakes his head with a smile and helps him, his nimble fingers straightening out the spines carefully. The two of them finish up and Lucas makes a beeline to Yuta, holding out his hand.  
  


“Hi! I’m Lucas,” he says, gripping Yuta’s hands with both of his once he accepts the handshake. It makes Yuta laugh, nose scrunching up slightly.  
  


“Good to meet you,” Yuta says, “we’ve been waiting for you to arrive.” Lucas drops Yuta’s hand and clutches his chest dramatically, turning to Jungwoo.  
  


“Did you hear that? They were waiting for us.” Jungwoo rolls his eyes, guiding Lucas to a plush armchair opposite the couch. “And we should tell them what we know so they don’t have to wait anymore.” Lucas plops down in the chair, forcing Jungwoo to sit on one of the arms. He leans slightly into Lucas, pushing his hair back with one hand and giving him a soft smile. Sicheng sits on the couch, giving Yuta plenty of space to take his place next to him. The mood suddenly shifts when Lucas starts speaking.  
  


“Argentum are definitely on their way, every place we stopped at talked of them,” Lucas says, and Jungwoo nods solemnly.  
  


“We didn’t see any members while we were traveling here,” Jungwoo starts, looking at Sicheng seriously. His brow creases as he chooses his next words carefully. “But it seems like they’re getting their message out by other means.”  
  


Sicheng thinks this over, deciding he doesn’t want to imagine how they’re making their presence known. Beside him, he sees Yuta’s shoulders tense, and Sicheng decides to get the worst of it out of the way.  
  


“How bad is it out there?” Sicheng asks, folding his hands in his lap. He sees Lucas’ eyes darken and Jungwoo reach out to hold the back of his arm.   
  
  
“They’ve touched everywhere you can think of,” Lucas replies, sagging his shoulders and looking at Sicheng with pleading eyes. “I don’t know how to fix it.”   
  
  
Sicheng sighs, glancing over for a moment to look around the room. He sees Yuta’s jacket hanging over the back of a chair, the most recent spellbook he had been combing through sitting on the table next to it. Something stirs in his chest, the notion that he's now responsible for dragging Yuta into the mess of an angry coven. There's traces of him everywhere in this house, and Sicheng has to push the thought out of his mind for the time being.  
  


"Well, we regroup," Sicheng says, sitting up straight in his chair and looking at Lucas and Jungwoo. "We come back stronger."  
  


Lucas grins at this, the kind that pulls at his face and makes you wonder how his jaw doesn't ache. "Well great!" He slaps his own knee and locks eyes with Jungwoo, who nods enthusiastically.  
  


"So I can count on you to stay?" Sicheng asks, and Lucas practically cuts him off in his answer.  
  


"Good luck getting rid of us."  
  


Jungwoo pats Lucas' arm and turns to Sicheng. "We'll be happy to stay. Is, ah…" Jungwoo looks at Yuta sitting next to Sicheng, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Is our room still available or should we consult Doyoung and Jaehyun?"  
  


"There's always a place for you here," Sicheng says, standing up and gesturing for the three of them to follow. He shows Jungwoo and Lucas their room, tucked in the far hallway at the other end of the staircase, spacious enough for the pair. Lucas hurries in excitedly but Jungwoo lingers back, reaching out to give Sicheng's arm a friendly squeeze and Yuta a dazzling smile.  
  


"Thank you," he speaks softly, leaning in closer. "I look forward to befriending your newest apprentice."  
  


Sicheng smiles softly at his old friend. "He'll be leaving soon, he asked to work with Ten on his day off." Jungwoo tilts his head back in laughter at this, eyes crinkling.  
  


"Working on a day off? Even I wasn't that studious as your apprentice," Jungwoo replies, giving Yuta a glance. He then leans his head in the door and gently reprimands Lucas for triggering the lights on and off in the room. Sicheng feels a pang in his heart at this, realizing just how much Jungwoo and Lucas have grown up before his eyes. He can see the way Jungwoo's expression is always peaceful with Lucas, always a gentle smile and a soft touch on his arm. It's clear he adores the witch, being perfectly content to learn and travel by his side.  
  


"I know," Sicheng says, a laugh leaving his lips. "You were good, though. Lucas too."  
  


"What about me?" Lucas says loudly, leaning his head out of the adjacent bathroom and flashing them a haughty grin. His dirty blonde hair hangs in his eyes, and he pushes it back with a large hand. Sicheng can see the familiar silvery-blue sparks dancing on his fingertips.  
  


"We were just saying that you shouldn't mess with the lights too much in here," Jungwoo says, wiggling his fingers at Lucas. The latter cackles at this, raising both of his hands in a sign of surrender.  
  


"Don't worry," Sicheng replies, smoothing out the front of his shirt. "I had these lightbulbs enchanted decades ago."  
  


"You have no idea how powerful he is now," Jungwoo replies seriously, shaking his head and turning back to Sicheng and Yuta, the latter staring at Jungwoo wide-eyed. "Once he got a handle on how to use water to his advantage, he messes with everything now."  
  


Sicheng sighs, giving Lucas an exasperated look. "I'll be sure to enchant the pipes later tonight, too."  
  


✞  
  


While not exactly the most controlled person emotionally, Sicheng could usually count on Ten to observe the necessary finesse not to bring up sensitive topics. Especially considering the fact that Yuta was now in their lives, they all had a general consensus to not bring up certain details around apprentices. They were careful not to tell him about their less than savory past adventures, lest he worry Yuta with the details of his life before escaping the arms of Argentum. Not because they didn't trust Yuta— but because a part of Sicheng worried this was all too much, that he would wake up one day and find him packing his things and leaving his life as quickly as he entered it.  
  


Tonight was not one of those nights, much to Sicheng's chagrin.  
  


Yuta and Sicheng were having a quiet dinner with Doyoung, tucked away in the small dining room that Sicheng had found more use for in the past few months. He was content to spend the night hours chatting over a glass of wine, keeping Doyoung company while Jaehyun was out hunting. He appreciated the time Doyoung took to bond with Yuta, and the two of them seemed to flow naturally into a close friendship.  
  


"Sicheng isn't working you too hard, is he?" Doyoung asks, looking at Yuta earnestly and placing a hand over his. Yuta laughs at this, patting Doyoung's hand gently.  
  


"If anything, I'm not working hard enough."  
  


"You make me sound like some angry headmaster," Sicheng replies, and he doesn't miss the smirk Doyoung tries to hide with his wine glass as he takes a sip. Doyoung pours himself another glass, swirling the cabernet and admiring the dark ruby color in the warm light.  
  


They're so far from the front door that Yuta doesn't hear the knock, but Sicheng's eyes immediately go towards the direction of the entryway. Even Doyoung, a comfortable buzz settled under his skin, gestures towards the sound. The air feels tense the entire walk to the door, and by the time he opens it, Sicheng it hit by a wave of anxiety and dark energy.   
  
  
“We can’t wait anymore,” Ten says sharply, and Sicheng has to blink for a moment to process his words.   
  
  
“What do you mean?” Sicheng asks, noting the way that even in the low light he can see the crease between Ten’s brows and the tense set in his jaw. Ten huffs out a breath and storms down the hallway, making a beeline towards the dining room, Sicheng follows close until they’re all in the same room, Yuta’s features carved into a look of concern and Doyoung immediately standing up.   
  
  
“What’s wrong?” Doyoung asks, looking between Ten and Sicheng. He swallows thickly, gesturing to Yuta at the opposite end of the table. Yuta shakes his head at this, silently urging them to continue. “Is this something we need to have a formal discussion about?”   
  
  
“No,” Ten replies, scrunching his eyes closed and rubbing his hands across his face before sliding them into his hair. It’s rare to see him this frazzled so Sicheng’s senses are heightened, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. “There’s no time, we have to change the plans.”  
  


Doyoung’s eyes darken at this. “We need to be rational.”   
  
  
“It’s not what we wanted, but it makes the most sense,” Sicheng says, and all three of them train their eyes on him. Ten give him a look of cautious hope, Doyoung is a warning, Yuta is fear. “With the coven coming, we need Johnny to be safe.”   
  
  
“He _is_ safe,” Doyoung cuts in, eyes darting between Sicheng and Ten. He crosses his arms and looks out the window, the inky black night feeling threatening. The expression he wears when he turns back to Sicheng would be composed to most, but Sicheng can see the fear in his eyes. “A ceremony like this would take almost all of our magic, we’d be so vulnerable.”  
  


“I’m not saying it’s easy,” Sicheng says, trying to soothe Doyoung. He focus his next words towards Ten’s direction. “I’m saying it’s worth the risk.”   
  
  
“Thank you,” Ten whispers, covering his face with his hands. Sicheng presses a palm to his back, pulling him into his shoulder in a gentle embrace. Doyoung looks on in worry, but it’s the moment that Sicheng locks eyes with Yuta that he feels a true sense of foreboding.  
  


✞  
  


Mornings are calm at Sicheng’s home, Yuta content to watch Sicheng make coffee and engage in idle conversation as they greet the sun. He knows Lucas and Jungwoo won’t wake for at least another hour, so they have this moment for themselves. When Sicheng places Yuta’s perfectly-doctored coffee in front of him, the steam rising up to meet his face, he senses something on Yuta’s mind.  
  


“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Sicheng says, leaning against the counter and gripping his own coffee with one hand, bringing it to his lips. He sees the wheels turn in Yuta’s head and he adds, “I said I would tell you everything from now on.”   
  
  
Yuta thinks for a moment, tapping his nails on the cup in front of him. Sicheng idly makes a mental note to ask Ten for jeweler recommendations, thinking that Yuta would appreciate some rings for his upcoming birthday. “I have a lot of questions,” Yuta says.  
  


“We have to start somewhere,” Sicheng replies, giving him a kind smile. “Ask whatever you feel comfortable asking.”  
  


Yuta sighs, taking a moment to sip his coffee. He sets the cup down carefully on the counter before looking at Sicheng with his full attention. “I heard Xiaojun that day we went to Doyoung’s house. What happened?” Yuta asks, then adding after a moment. “I know he was hurt somehow.” Sicheng thinks for a moment how to word it before ultimately deciding to tell Yuta the bare truth.  
  


“When people have done something wrong in Argentum, they’re punished,” Sicheng begins, setting his coffee on the counter next to the sink. “There’s a rune, of sorts. A perfect circle, each design unique to that certain person.”   
  
  
“A rune,” Yuta repeats, nodding.  
  


“Carved directly into their skin,” Sicheng says, noting the way Yuta winces but urges him to continue. “They aren’t just for show, unfortunately. There are certain visions tied to them.”   
  
  
Yuta knits his brows. “Visions? Like memories?”   
  
  
“False memories,” Sicheng corrects, rubbing the back of his neck. “You essentially see your worst fear, the thing you never want to happen in real life.” Yuta looks horrified at this.  
  


“That’s torture,” he whispers, and Sicheng nods carefully.  
  


He thinks back centuries, when they first left Argentum. He thinks of how he carried Doyoung as far away as possible before collapsing in the woods, trying to keep Doyoung’s hands away from the fresh rune on his shoulder. Sicheng thinks about how the heaviness of the cloak presses on it anyway, a scream erupting from Doyoung’s lips as his eyes turned pale, forcing himself to relive the false memory of losing Jaehyun in a bloody battle. He has to swallow down the memory before continuing.  
  


“Indeed, and it seems that the coven is giving those out much more freely in recent years.” Yuta stares at his drink for a moment, processing this. He doesn’t pick his gaze up when he speaks again.  
  


“He was screaming that day, do you think he saw something?”   
  
  
“He did,” Sicheng replies, “and I think it had to do with Kun, since he looked right at him.”   
  
  
“That’s terrible.” Yuta says, taking a deep breath. “But I guess that means he loves him.” Sicheng gives Yuta a bittersweet smile.  
  


“I’m tempted to agree.” The two of them are quiet for a moment, but neither of them reach for their drinks. Yuta’s next question is one that Sicheng knew had been coming for a long time.  
  


“What can you tell me about this ceremony?”  
  


Sicheng thinks for a moment, remembering how distraught Ten was the previous night. He tries to think of a positive aspect of this to tell Yuta, but it’s proving difficult. “This is a conversion ceremony, but there is some significance you might be familiar with,” Sicheng says, and he smiles at the way Yuta tilts his head curiously.  
  


“What do you mean?”   
  
  
“I think it’s similar to what humans would refer to as a wedding, since it formally binds Ten and Johnny to each other,” Sicheng replies, his smile growing wider when Yuta looks at him with round eyes.  
  


“Oh wow,” Yuta whispers, taking in the thought before his next question. “But why did Ten seem so upset?” The mood instantly shifts to a somber one.   
  
  
“These ceremonies are very delicate for someone in Johnny’s position, it’s one that converts his blood into that of an immortal witch,” Sicheng says. “It takes a lot of powerful witches to do successfully, and it’s quite difficult. A lot can go wrong.”   
  
  
“But you can do it, can’t you?” Yuta asks, reaching out to hold his coffee. His hands overlap on the cup in front of him, and Sicheng turns his gaze to them instead of looking at Yuta’s face.  
  


“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, “I hope so.”   
  
  
The room is bathed in silence, the implication of Sicheng’s words hanging heavy between them. When Yuta finally speaks again, his voice is so quiet it makes Sicheng’s chest ache.  
  


“So if they didn’t do the ceremony out of precaution, and only Ten is immortal...” Yuta says, but he trails off. Sicheng takes a deep breath before responding, and it hurts him to say. Yuta’s breath hitches at the words, and Sicheng can’t get the thought out of his mind.  
  


“Johnny will eventually die.”  
  


The two of them are drenched in silence, and Sicheng doesn’t know how to change how heartbroken Yuta looks. They stay in the kitchen for a while, Yuta looking down at his drink and Sicheng trying to think of something to say, but nothing comes. He looks at Yuta, the way his lips are turned downward in a frown and his eyes look stormy, and he feels it.  
  


For the first time, Sicheng thinks he can truly sympathize with Ten over what it would feel like to lose someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucas is a very good boy

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated ♡
> 
>  
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/pinkwinwin)  
> [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/pinkwinwin)


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